Protective instincts.
They don’t switch off.
Not ever.
Not when it comes to her.
Outside?
I’m calm.
Cool.
Collected.
The same mask I wore in the field. The one that kept me alive when everything around me went to hell.
Don’t react.
Don’t show it.
Don’t let them see what’s under the surface.
And right now?
I need that.
Because inside?
Inside, I’m not calm.
Not even close.
My heart is pounding like a goddamn stampede—wild, relentless, crashing through everything in its path.
Like a herd breaking through a fence, running for open ground.
Freedom.
Or destruction.
Same difference.
She thought this was it.
And that thought burns.
She thought that this—us—was just some kind of temporary thing.
A road trip.
A fling.
A way to close the chapter clean and walk away.
Like what we had didn’t matter.
Like those months of marriage—all those nights together?
