Ravik leaned back against the rock wall, eyes closed in a futile attempt to quiet his mind. He kept them shut against the soft scrape of fabric and the weight of a body shifting into place next to him.

“Not in the mood, Sarin,” Ravik muttered.

“I’m flattered you think it’s me.”

The voice wasn’t Sarin’s—it was Kael’s. Low, steady, and carrying the faintest trace of amusement. Ravik’s eyes snapped open, his violet gaze locking onto Kael, who was now sitting beside him, close enough that their shoulders nearly brushed.

“What are you doing?” 

Kael tilted his head, his crimson eyes meeting Ravik’s without hesitation. “You’re wound tight, Captain. And if you think I didn’t notice you haven’t rested since we got back, you’re underestimating me.”

Ravik’s jaw tightened, his gaze darting away. “I’m fine.”

“You’re not,” Kael countered, his tone calm but unyielding. “But you don’t have to talk about it. Just... try to sleep. I’ll stay here.”

Ravik glanced at him, suspicion flickering in his eyes. “Why?”

“Because I need you sharp tomorrow. And maybe because I don’t mind the company.”

Ravik’s spine tensed, reflexes screaming to push Kael back, re-establish distance. But Kael wasn’t Sarin, with his playful banter and obvious flirtation. Kael didn’t press. That made him harder to push away.

“I don’t need a babysitter,” Ravik muttered.

“No, you don’t,” Kael agreed, his gaze steady. “But it doesn’t mean I’m leaving.”

The silence stretched between them. Ravik’s pulse quickened. Kael was too close. And worse—comfortable.

Kael shifted slightly, leaning closer. The faint brush of his shoulder against Ravik’s sent a shiver down Ravik’s spine. “You don’t have to carry all of this alone, you know.”

Ravik exhaled sharply, leaning his head back against the wall. “Just don’t snore.”

Kael chuckled softly, the sound low and warm. “I’ll try to behave.”

They sat in silence, the wind outside their camp a distant howl. Ravik closed his eyes again, his mind still restless but his body slowly relaxing under the weight of Kael’s steady presence.

For the first time that night, he felt like maybe—just maybe—he could sleep.

Kael leaned back against the rock wall, his rifle resting across his lap as his crimson eyes scanned the shadows beyond their camp. The toxic winds of Kaevus-4 howled faintly, their relentless edge dulled by the canyon’s natural barriers. He’d positioned himself just far enough from Ravik to maintain plausible detachment, but close enough to watch him—a proximity that was equal parts protective and indulgent.

His gaze flicked toward Ravik, whose breathing had finally started to slow, the tension in his shoulders easing as exhaustion crept in. Kael’s jacket was still draped over him, the dark fabric blending into the shadows like a second skin. The sight stirred something in Kael, a faint but insistent pull he couldn’t entirely ignore.

Ravik was unlike anyone he’d ever commanded. He was sharp, capable, and determined to prove himself at every turn. But beneath that razor-sharp exterior, Kael had glimpsed the cracks. Flashes of vulnerability Ravik worked so hard to hide.

Kael exhaled slowly, his gaze shifting back to the horizon. He knew better than to let himself be distracted. The mission was too important, the stakes too high. And yet, his thoughts kept drifting back to the younger Yawr resting just a few feet away.

Ravik had handled himself well today. Better than Kael had expected, even. The kill had shaken him—Kael had seen that much—but it hadn’t broken him. Instead, it had revealed a side of Ravik that Kael found... compelling.

His fingers tightened briefly around the grip of his rifle, the motion grounding him. And yet, sitting here in the dim light, watching over Ravik, Kael felt a flicker of something dangerously close to possessiveness.

It wasn’t just Ravik’s competence that drew him. It was the fire behind his violet eyes, the way he carried himself with a mix of defiance and restraint. Ravik didn’t yield easily—Kael had learned that much already. But when he did, when he allowed even the smallest crack in his armor to show, it was...

Kael clenched his jaw, forcing the thought away. Now wasn’t the time.

But his mind betrayed him, replaying the moment earlier when he’d leaned over Ravik, draping the jacket over him. The tension in Ravik’s body, the way his breath had hitched, hadn’t gone unnoticed. Ravik had been too proud to admit it, but Kael could see it. That fleeting, unspoken moment where Ravik hadn’t pulled away.

It wasn’t just want. But Kael didn’t want to call it more. Ravik made him feel... invested. 

Kael shook his head, his expression hardening. He was a commander, not a distraction. Indulgence wasn’t an option. And yet, the thought of anything happening to Ravik twisted something in his chest.

The horizon remained still, the darkness unbroken by enemy movement. Kael let out a slow breath, his gaze flicking back to Ravik one last time.

“Focus,” Kael muttered to himself, his voice barely audible over the wind.

But his thoughts betrayed him again, lingering on the way Ravik looked with his defenses down, his sharp edges softened by the dim light and Kael’s jacket. Dangerous, Kael reminded himself. Not just because of what it meant for the mission, but because of what it meant for him.

Kael leaned forward slightly, adjusting his position as he resumed his watch. The mission demanded his full attention, and yet, part of him couldn’t help but hope for another quiet moment like this—another chance to be close, to see Ravik without the walls he so carefully maintained.

It was a dangerous hope. But Kael wasn’t sure he wanted to stop himself from wanting it.