Slade didn’t take orders—not from handlers, not from enemies, and definitely not from lovers.

But standing there, half-dressed in the low-lit room, his partner watching him with a look that was equal parts challenge and curiosity, he paused. Not because he was told to.

Because something about her—steady, unyielding—made him think twice.

His hands hovered at his belt. The silence stretched.

She didn’t speak. She never had to.

He stepped forward instead, closing the distance, his voice low and sharp like the cut of a blade. “You know I don’t play safe.”

And in that moment, it wasn’t a warning. It was a promise.