Mac stood just outside the Circle’s edge, still and attentive. Melvin sensed the shift in him, the subtle change that meant Mac had made a decision and committed to it.
“High Steward,” Mac said, voice level, “may I have a moment with Lieutenant Hayes before you proceed?”
The High Steward regarded him without surprise. “You may,” he said.
Mac inclined his head once, then turned toward Melvin and motioned toward the narrow interior door near the supply cabinet.
Melvin followed him.
Mac pushed the door open, stepped inside, and waited until Melvin entered before closing it quietly behind them.
The adjoining room felt smaller and ordinary, lit by a single fluorescent panel. Cabinets lined one wall, most of them half empty. A folded exam table stood secured upright beside a narrow rolling tray. The air smelled faintly of antiseptic and dust.
For the first time since the Stewards arrived, Melvin felt the pressure ease enough to draw a full breath.
Mac stood with his back to the door for a moment, making sure it latched, then turned.
Up close, he looked exactly as Melvin knew he would. Composed because he had to be. Steady because anything else would have been impossible.
“We were going to put in for R&R anyway,” Mac said at last, voice quiet and certain. “I’ll submit it when I get back to the TOC.”
Melvin understood. A plan, not comfort.
“As soon as it clears,” Mac went on, “I’ll come find you.”
There was no hesitation in the words.
Melvin nodded once. “I’ll be there.”
Mac studied him, as if fixing that answer into place.
“I don’t like not knowing where they’re taking you.”
“They said stateside,” Melvin answered. “Training. Adjustment. Learning what this means.”
Mac nodded once. “They won’t keep you from me.”
It wasn’t a question.
Melvin shook his head. “No.”
Silence settled between them, heavy with everything they couldn’t say outside that room. Mac stepped closer. The movement was unhurried, deliberate. Months of restraint lived between them. Now there was no room left for pretending. Mac’s hand slid along the side of Melvin’s neck, steady and warm.
Then he leaned in and kissed him.
The contact struck like inevitability.
A sharp spark snapped between them the instant their lips met. Melvin felt it move through his chest and down his spine like a live current before settling deeper, spreading into something steady that refused to fade.
Melvin’s breath caught against Mac’s mouth.
For a second he thought it was exhaustion, too many sleepless nights, too much strain packed into too few days, but Mac stilled the same way. Something deeper than surprise moved through the moment.
Recognition.
The panther in him stirred and went utterly still. Mate.
The word rose without language, a knowing rather than a voice. Melvin almost pulled back, not from doubt, but from the sudden weight of it.
