A month slipped by like sand through an open palm.
Days rolled into nights, drills into debriefs, and training into something far deeper than muscle and command.
Damien and Leah had settled into a rhythm that no one quite understood.
By day, they were the perfect definition of discipline. Leah stood straighter when he walked by, her salutes precise, her tone clipped and professional. Damien’s gaze never lingered longer than protocol allowed; his commands came sharp and measured. To the entire camp, they looked like the epitome of soldier and superior detached, composed, and strictly formal.
But by night, everything changed.
They never planned it, yet somehow they always found themselves in the same places the empty field behind the east wing, the quiet storage shed, or the bench under
