The boys don’t hear—too loud, too drunk, too busy with their own chaos. But I hear. Every syllable.
And he knows exactly what he’s doing.
Not drunk enough to claim ignorance.
Not sober enough to pretend restraint.
Just reckless enough to forget I’m his captain.
My jaw tightens, my knuckles flex against the tape still biting my hands. I hold his stare, calm and silent, watching his grin twitch at the edges under the weight of it.
I lean in, slow, deliberate, until my mouth is just beside his ear. My voice cuts low, rough enough to scrape his skin.
“Careful, pup. You’re one word away from something you can’t take back.”
He doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t look away. His grin doesn’t falter—itwidens,reckless and dangerous.
“And what word would that be?” he shoots back, eyes sparking.
My jaw tightens. My hand flexes once at my side.
And I realize—this isn’t a rookie chirping anymore.
This is Mercer begging me to snap the leash.
The rookie doesn’t know what he’s asking for.
Or maybe he does.
I lean in slow, hair falling forward, shadow cutting us off from the rest of the rooftop. His breath stutters for half a second, but he holds his ground—grin twitching, body swaying with the booze and the adrenaline still boiling in his veins.
My mouth brushes his ear.
“Mine.”
The word lands hard, heavier than a fist, sharper than a blade.
His entire body jerks. The grin breaks, falters, reforms—shaky, wild, too wide, like he doesn’t know whether to laugh or choke. Color floods his face, crawling up his neck.
Elias Mercer—the loudmouth, the brat, the rookie who never shuts up—goes silent.
Just for me.
Mercer just stares at me, wide eyes caught between panic and hunger, lips parted around words he can’t seem to find. He looks like he’s deciding if he should bolt for the stairwell or step closer and burn himself alive.
Then—he digs deeper.
“…Aren’t you too old for me, sir?”
I narrow my eyes, lean closer, let my voice cut low and cold.
“Aren’t you the one who came here looking for it?”
His breath hitches. His grin falters, reforms, wider, sharper, reckless to the bone. He knows exactly what I mean. He’s the one who walked over. He’s the one who opened his mouth. He’s the one who begged for this.
He came to me.
And he’s not running.
