Chapter 1

I sat in the back of the helicopter, knees jammed against my bags, the helo rattling and bouncing as it cut through the rain-heavy African sky. Raindrops streaking across the round perspex window, smearing the view into nothing.

The crew chief leaned in, grabbed my shoulder, and held up two fingers.

“Two minutes and we’re home,” he shouted in my ear.

Home. Right.

I looked out the scratched glass, hoping to glimpse something, anything, but there were only clouds and mist.

I still wasn’t sure if they sent me here to reward me or shut me up. After years of writing fluff about celebrity breakups and stories no one actually cared about, I finally wrote something real. I wasn’t supposed to.

They gave me a soft piece. Medicine shortages in rural African clinics. I was meant to quote a few aid workers, add some stats, and file it. Done. But one nurse mentioned missing shipments. The numbers didn’t line up. I followed the wrong lead on purpose and wrote the story that actually hit.

And somehow, they didn’t fire me. They sent me to Sierra Leone instead.

I left behind my tiny apartment, overpriced coffee, and a city that never shut up about the wrong things. I traded it for mud, rain, and a place where the world didn’t just talk. It bled.

No more secondhand stories from sources behind phones. They wanted me in it. Eyes open. Feet on the ground. War zone reporting. On-site. First woman they’ve ever sent. Totally unheard of.

It wasn’t just dangerous. It was completely insane. And exactly what I’d been waiting for.

This wasn’t climbing the ladder. This was free-falling, with no idea what was at the bottom. And I grinned like I couldn’t wait to hit it—but as the helicopter bucked through the storm, shaking like it might rip apart mid-air, I wondered if I’d just flown straight into the worst decision of my life.

Across from me, my so-called traveling companion—silent since the airport—was dead asleep, slumped against his pack like this was just another Tuesday. Tam. That’s all I had. No last name, no real intro. Just the personality of a brick wall.

His face looked carved from dry wood. Sharp, tired, sun-worn. The kind of pale skin that burns before it tans. A face that had seen more than it ever planned to say. His bush hat was pulled low, and his uniform looked like it had lived in the bottom of a duffel bag for a decade. Mine still smelled like new fabric and nervous sweat.

I reached for the camera they gave me, still fumbling with its weight. Awkward, bulky, too many damn buttons. I was a writer, not a photographer. Back home, I used my phone. But that wasn’t allowed. Neither were personal items. Not on an assignment like this.

I lifted the camera and aimed it at Tam. Took one shot. No idea why. Maybe to feel in control. Maybe because he looked like a man who’d vanish the second I looked away.

He hadn’t said much since we left. Just pointed to flights and overnight stays with the bare minimum of speech. No small talk. Just that practiced silence, like he’d already decided I wouldn’t last long enough to bother with.

The helo dropped like a stone. Slammed into the mud, then pitched sideways so hard I lost all sense of up and down. One second I was bracing. The next I was airborne, then crashing straight into him.

Tam snapped awake with a grunt, one arm flying out to catch himself before I fully body-slammed him.

We froze—me awkwardly sprawled across him, his hand braced against the wall, those sharp blue eyes locked on mine. Cold. Unimpressed. Still half-asleep, which somehow made it worse.

Then he shoved me off with one quick motion, like I was something gross that had just landed on his lap.

“Fuck me,” he growled as he adjusted himself. Voice rough, like sandpaper soaked in attitude. “There’s a reason we have seatbelts, you dickhead.”

Wow. First sentence I’d gotten out of him in over an hour, and that’s what he went with. Charming.

My gear was scattered everywhere. I swore under my breath, scrambling to gather it. I could feel him watching. Not curious, not concerned. Just judging, like I was useless. An inconvenient problem someone else had dumped in his lap.

And the worst part? It wasn’t new.

People had looked at me like that my whole damn life. Like I was too soft, too slow, too much of everything they didn’t have time for. Never enough of what they wanted. I’d learned to square my shoulders, lift my chin, pretend it didn’t matter.

But with him, it hit harder.

Maybe because he didn’t even bother to hide it. He looked right through me, like I was already dead weight. Like he was just waiting for me to prove him right.

My hands shook as I jammed a strap back into place. Not from fear. From fury. From the sharp burn of being seen exactly how I swore I wouldn’t be.

I came here to do a job. One shot that could change everything. And fuck him—I was going to do it.

A smirk tugged at my lips as I remembered how his boss had laid it out for him: “Just fucking do it, or head back home to the farm and shovel sheep shit for a living. Your call.”

Yeah. You’re stuck with me, Tam. Sucks to be you.

“Ella, slow down a bit,” Tam said, voice low and tired. “We’re staying in here until the rain lets up, so take it easy there.”

“Oh, so you can talk,” I snapped, pausing just long enough to glare at him. “I’m honestly shocked you even know my name.” I threw him a look, bold and mean. “Lucky me, huh? Now I get to spend even more time in your delightful company.”

Tam didn’t flinch. Just leveled those cold, hard blue eyes at me.

“My job is to keep you alive, vrou,” he said, that strange flat accent turning the word into a slap. I didn’t even know what vrou meant, but I was pretty damn sure it wasn’t a compliment.

“I’m not here to hold your hand. And I sure as hell am not here to be your friend.”

Something in me flinched, but I didn’t look away.

“You need to get this through your head,” he said, stepping in closer, his voice dropping to something low and dark. Not angry. Dangerous. “This place isn’t like anywhere you’ve ever been before. It’s very, very easy to die here.”

My throat tightened.

“So you keep your smartass comments to yourself, lady. You watch. You listen to the people here. And you better fucking learn. Fast.”

Each word landed like a brick—heavy, final—stacking on my chest until I could barely breathe.

Then he leaned in, close enough for me to feel the heat in his voice.

“Because if you don’t, you’ll be leaving here in a body bag. And the only thing anyone will think is what a fuckin’ idiot you were.”

A chill slid down my spine as I stared at him, actually seeing him for the first time. Cold. Calculating. Lethal.

He wasn’t just some grumpy asshole who hated my guts. He was the kind of man who didn’t bluff. Didn’t flinch and never offered second chances.

I wouldn’t underestimate him again.

When the rain stopped, we grabbed our gear and walked across the pad toward a squat, single-story building.

“This used to be a school before we moved in,” Tam called over his shoulder. He glanced back and saw me falling behind.

“Here, hand me some of that,” he said, sounding more tired than annoyed.

I stared at him. Why would he help me? I was pretty sure he liked watching me struggle.

He reached for one of the heavier bags, and that’s when I saw it.

A pistol. Tucked into the back of his pants like it was part of him. Like it had always been there.

I froze.

He’d been armed this whole time. Since we left South Africa. Two days. Two full days.

And I hadn’t noticed.

My stomach dropped.

This wasn’t some thrilling story I’d brag about later. This was real. Life or death. No edits. No safety net.

And I wasn’t ready.

Chapter 2

Tam caught my gaze as I stared at the pistol. He didn’t say a word. Didn’t need to. The look he gave me felt like I’d failed a test I never even got the chance to prep for.

Of course he was armed. We were in a war zone, not on a safari. But seeing it like that, so casual, shifted everything.

For the first time, I saw how fast this could go wrong. How naïve I’d been to think I could handle it. How easy it would be to die here, and how little anyone would care.

My stomach turned, but I shoved it down just as the door to the building swung open and a tall, broad-shouldered black man stepped out, smiling wide like he’d been waiting for us.

“Hey, Bleskop! I told you, man, that you’d be back here. I said you're not fit for human beings anymore now, but nooo… you just had to go and find out for yourself, didn’t you? Bru, your ears are only just for decoration… because surely they are not for listening with.”

Tam grinned. Really grinned. I’d never seen him smile like that before. It lit up his face in this stupid, effortless way, like there was an actual person under all that ice.

And I hated that I noticed. Worse, part of me wanted to see him smile like that again. At me. The thought made my skin crawl. I looked away before it could settle.

The man stepped forward and pulled Tam into a rough, back-slapping hug. No hesitation. No stiffness. Just pure, easy familiarity. Close. Like Tam had a place here. And I was just background noise.

Tam said something in a language I didn’t understand. The other guy barked out a laugh like it was the funniest thing he’d heard in weeks. Tam didn’t bother translating. Didn’t even look at me.

“It is good to see you again, my brother. And how is the family?”

There it was again. Another shift. Warmth in Tam’s voice. Not the sharp, clipped tone he saved for me. With this man, he actually sounded human.

Then, finally, he turned.

“Sy praat nie Afrikaans,” Tam said, tossing the words at me like a scrap.

So that’s what it was. Afrikaans.

The man didn’t miss a beat. He switched right into Afrikaans, talking fast and loud like I wasn’t there.

Tam laughed again. And for a second, he didn’t seem cold or hard or impossible. He just looked at home.

I stayed a step behind, trying not to look awkward, even though I felt more out of place by the second. The tension kept building in my chest, and I did my best to hide it.

I glanced around, anything to keep my hands from fidgeting.

The building was low and squat. It had been a school once, like Tam said. Faded paint still clung to the walls. Shapes, maybe letters, mostly worn away. Now it was fortified with sandbags and concrete. Bunkers flanking the perimeter. The vegetation had been cleared far back in every direction, leaving a wide, barren stretch all around us.

It felt too open. Too exposed. Like it invited danger instead of keeping it out.

“It’s called a killing ground, Miss,” the man said, catching my look. His voice was friendly, almost casual. “You can call me Chris—since this ‘thing’ next to me has not the manners to introduce us.”

Despite my nerves, I managed a smile.

“My name’s Ella. Not Miss.” I glanced at Tam, then back to Chris. “He doesn’t talk much, does he?”

Chris chuckled. “No, he don’t say so much, Ella. But when he does, you best listen, hey. He’s been at this for a good long time now, and he’s a clever man too.”

“Chris, you talk enough for both of us anyway,” Tam muttered, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips.

He was different around Chris. Softer? No. Just less guarded.

“Come on, Ella. Let’s figure out where to put you for the night.”

I followed them inside, feeling about as welcome as a plus-one at my ex’s wedding. The kind people pretend aren’t there.

The room opened up in front of us, dim and stale, thick with the smell of old wood, sweat, and dust. My eyes adjusted slowly. It was bare. Functional. A few mismatched chairs, a desk drowning in paperwork, and supplies crammed into every corner.

A skinny white guy sprang up from behind the desk, grinning like he’d just won the lottery.

“WOFTAM! Welcome back! That toilet bag you're carrying really suits you. Brings out your long eyelashes,” he laughed, throwing an arm around Tam in a half hug and clapping him on the back. “You just couldn’t keep away, huh? I kept your webbing for you so you wouldn’t have to break in a new set. Bru, I can read you like a damn book!”

Tam grinned again. That made three smiles in five minutes. Must be some kind of record.

“Agh man, I had to come back to see you, you skinny little freak. I like to watch the different ways you fuck things up around here, Spider.”

Spider looked over at me, curiosity flicking behind the grin. Tam briefly glanced at me, then turned right back to him.

“Now, we need a spot for this stray journo I found skulking around HQ two days ago. Preferably far away from all of you degenerates in this building.”

No introduction. No effort. Just enough to dismiss me. 

Spider smirked. “Speaking of perverts… your old room’s the only one left. All the teams are in camp until the weather clears.”

Tam groaned. “There’s no way that room’s big enough for two people and all the crap she brought.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Guess I’ll crash in the ammo bunker.”

From somewhere behind me, Chris snickered. “Jy is slim, bru. Don’t think he’s sacrificing so much, Ella,” he said, grinning. “That bunker’s the only place around here with any air conditioning.”

Great. Five stars for hospitality. And if this was just the welcome, I could only imagine the rest.

Chapter 3

I sulked down the hall, dragging my feet just enough to be petty about it as I trailed after Tam and Chris.

Tam didn’t look back. Not once. He just walked on ahead with all my stuff slung over his shoulder like it weighed nothing.

I stepped into the room behind him, still annoyed and definitely not over the way he’d treated me like excess baggage.

The room smelled like damp timber and old rain. Heavy. Musty. Like the walls hadn’t dried since the last storm.

One cot was shoved against the wall, the mattress so thin I could see the frame beneath it. A battered wooden chair sat beside a small table with a wheezing electric fan and a lamp that flickered like it was begging to die.

But what stopped me was the bookcase. It leaned awkwardly in the corner like it had survived three lifetimes, packed with books. Dozens of paperbacks, sun-faded and yellowed, some stacked sideways on top of others. Like someone actually read them. A lot of them.

I stared at the shelves, unsure what to do with that. I hadn’t pegged Tam as a reader. Not even close.

He didn’t seem like the type to do anything quiet, let alone thoughtful. He seemed like the type who’d sharpen knives in the dark and mutter to himself in Afrikaans.   

But there it was. Something else under all that hostility. And I hated that it made me curious.

Tam dropped my stuff like it didn’t matter and walked off without even looking at me.

Fine. Whatever.

“Help her with her gear, Chris. See if you can find an extra mattress,” he said, already halfway through the door. “I need to go see our great leader.”

He tossed the next line over his shoulder, eyes on Chris. “Find me when you’re done with your new girlfriend here. We’ll get some food.”

And then he was gone.

What a fucking asshole.

I sighed and looked over at Chris. “He doesn’t like me very much, does he?”

Chris shook his head. “Tam is a professional soldier, Ella. It’s not about liking or disliking you. Out here, that don’t matter. He’s ordered to keep you safe, and that’s what he’ll do, despite what he might think about you.”

He paused, tone softening as he caught the unease on my face. “And don’t let him fool you with that sleepy eyed look he uses with people. He’s quite simply the best I’ve ever seen in the bush. I’d bet my life on it. I have done so many, many times. My wife and my daughters asked him to come back. If he hadn’t come for us, I’d be heading home, and we need the money too badly for that.”

I tilted my head, trying not to roll my eyes at how heroic it all sounded. Annoyingly, it made him more interesting.

“You two must be close, then?” I said, pretending to sound casual.

“We’re brothers,” Chris said simply. “Same blood in our veins, O positive in fact. We just swap blood when we get hit. Two times for him, once for me. Ask him about being shot in the ass… he’ll thank you for that.”

He flashed a wicked grin.

“Usually, we work as a two-man sniper team, but sometimes as team leader and second in command when the reconnaissance teams are short on warm bodies.”

I wasn’t entirely sure what he meant by that last part.

But before I could ask, it hit me. There were plenty of reasons they’d be short on people. And none of them were good.

“Let’s get some dinner,” Chris said, breaking my train of thought. “Tam’s gonna be awhile. And it looks like he got fat eating too much of his own cooking while he was away.”

“He can cook?” I asked, genuinely surprised.

Chris grinned. “He can do whatever he wants when he’s in the right mind. You’ll see this.”

Cooking. Books. Loyalty that ran deeper than blood.

Every time I thought I had Tam figured out, something else chipped away at the version I’d built in my head.

It would’ve been easier to just pin him under an asshole in uniform. A domineering man. That I could handle. What I didn’t like was unpredictable.

I followed Chris to the mess hall, trying not to overthink any of it.

The room was packed. Soldiers everywhere. Boots scuffed the floor, trays slammed onto metal tables, voices crashing in bursts of laughter and crude jokes. It was loud, hot, and smelled like sweat and starch. The chaos that came from too many men crammed into one space for too long.

But the second I stepped in behind Chris—everything changed.

The noise dropped. Heads turned. Conversations cut off mid-word. Dozens of eyes hit me like a spotlight. I kept my gaze forward, but I felt them. The stares. Hungry. Like I’d just wandered into a cage full of starving dogs. Or vultures.

The silence hit harder than the laughter. It crawled across my skin.

Heat crept into my face as the whispers started.

“Shit, check out the tits on that.”

“Look at that ass. Damn.”

“Bet she moans like a pornstar.”

“Looks like she needs a proper welcome.”

“I’d have her screaming in five minutes.”

A few chuckles.

Someone muttered something in Afrikaans I didn’t catch, but I didn’t need a translation. I knew that tone. I’d heard it too many times before.

My fists clenched. I didn’t flinch, but every nerve in my body lit up. That old burn rose in my chest, tight in my throat. The one that said I wasn’t a person in this room. Just a body. A thing to be picked apart, sized up, and spat out.

I’d been here before. Not this place, but this feeling. And I’d never wanted to disappear faster in my life.

Tam appeared out of nowhere, brushing past me and Chris without a word. The room went silent. The tension snapped, like his presence alone sliced the air clean.

“What the fuck are you all staring at?” he snarled.

His voice was sharp, furious. He’d heard every word.

“Her name’s Ella. And yes, as you’ve clearly noticed, she’s a woman. Some of you have daughters. Sisters. Hell, a few of you might even have mothers who are women.”

His cold blue eyes swept the room, sharp and unblinking.

“She’s here to make you all famous. So show her some respect. Or I swear to the gods, you’ll wish you had.”

Silence. No one moved.

“Team Four stays. The rest of you—find somewhere else to be. Right fuckin’ now.”

Chairs scraped. Boots shuffled. No one said a word as the room emptied fast. 

I stood there, pulse hammering in my ears, heat still burning in my face.

I hadn’t asked for Tam’s help. Didn’t want him to speak for me. But when he did, the entire room listened. Just like that.

Tam didn’t even look at me. Just stood there, jaw tight, eyes still scanning like he was ready to cripple the next clown who so much as breathed wrong.

Chris leaned toward me, voice low.

“I think his holiday is over. Looks like he’s back in business now.”

I choked on a laugh, caught somewhere between relief, nerves, and the type of situation that makes you laugh just because you know you shouldn’t. As if my body needed to release something, and that was the only way it knew how.

Tam turned his head slowly, eyes locking onto us with a glare that could freeze fire.

“Shit,” Chris muttered. “He still has ears like a damn bat.”

Tam’s stare sharpened. “Since you think you’re such a funny man, Christopher, you can show her the fine dining here. That should stop her laughing, too.”

Chris grinned and said just loud enough for me to hear, “Five-star dining, straight outta hell’s kitchen.”

Then he led me to the serving counter, where the food was basic but stacked high. No labels. No choices. Just scoops of something hot, heavy, and vaguely beige.

We filled our trays and found an empty spot at the edge of the room. We ate in relative silence, but the table beside us was the opposite.

The rest of the team had clustered around Tam, like they’d been waiting for him to drop out of the sky. Laughter rippled through the room, rising and falling like they finally had something to celebrate.

What struck me wasn’t just the noise. It was how they touched him. Every single one of them.

A pat on his arm. A clasp on his shoulder. Fingers brushing his hand, too natural to be random. Not one of them missed the chance. Like they needed to feel him. Like touching him made it real.

And the way they smiled. Not polite or forced. Full, unguarded smiles people give to someone who pulled them out of something dark.

They were all reaching for some piece of him. And Tam let them.

He just sat there, calm in the center of it all. Like he was theirs. Like he’d never left.

My curiosity got the better of me. “Why are they doing that?” I whispered to Chris.

Chris glanced at me. “They will all touch him, hoping to take a bit of his spirit with them,” he explained. “Tam doesn’t make fun of their beliefs, even if he doesn’t share them. That’s part of why they respect him so much.”

I frowned. “And the other reasons?”

“Just watch, and you’ll see for yourself, Miss writer,” Chris said with a sly grin. “Let’s head over. This will be all about you.”

I followed Chris, my chest tightening the closer we got.

Tam stood at the front, arms crossed. Completely still, but not stiff. Not posing. Just there. Like the space belonged to him and he didn’t need to lift a finger to prove it.

That look on his face—untouchable—started to dig under my skin.

He didn’t take control. It just settled around him. And everyone else followed, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Maybe that’s what hit hardest. Not envy. Not admiration. Just that bitter pull in my gut. I had never walked into a room and taken up space like that.

I was the pretty thing in the corner. Never really seen or heard. Never followed… Just taking up space.

“Right, sit down and shut up,” Tam said, mock-serious as the team dropped into their seats. “You’re all worse than a bunch of schoolgirls.”

Laughter spread through the group. They were locked on him. Every single one.

He didn’t look at me when he added, “As you now know, we have a guest. She’s here to see what we do… though I’m still not entirely what it is some of you actually do.”

More snickers. Nudges. Someone elbowed the guy next to him and whispered something I couldn’t catch.

I kept my face still. Flat. Neutral. I wasn’t about to give them anything else to chew on.

Tam’s gaze swept the group. “Good news is, we’re off standdown. You were all getting fat and lazy, anyway.”

Smirks spread like sparks catching dry grass. Nods followed. They were ready. Hungry for it.

“As of tomorrow morning, we’re in isolation. We’ll run contact drills and get some range time. Show Ella how it’s done.”

And then every head turned. It prickled like static. That feeling of being outside the circle and knowing it.

“At the very least,” Tam said, still not looking at me, “we’ll teach her how to run with us in the right direction.”

More laughter. It wasn’t kind. But I smiled anyway. Small. Just enough to pass. A mask I’d worn a thousand times. 

Tam’s voice cut back in, firm and to the point. “Alright. All of you, take it easy on the beer tonight. We’ve got work to do tomorrow.” He looked at Chris. “Go to the bunker and get Team Three’s old ammo from their last recce. We’ll use it up downrange in the morning.”

Tam turned to me. “You’re coming with me. We need to see the boss. After that, I’ll show you around.”

I pressed my lips together, choking back everything I wanted to say.

He defended me, then turned me into a punchline. And now I was supposed to just follow him?

But I nodded. What was I going to do — tell him to fuck off in front of the whole team?

Sure. That would’ve gone over great.

So I followed him out. The lump in my throat stuck like a stone.

Chapter 4

We barely stepped outside before the sky dumped a full-on downpour on us. Rain hit hard, straight through my uniform, soaking me to the skin in seconds. It clung to me, heavy and cold, dripping from my sleeves, pooling in my boots.

Behind us, the rest of the team — warm, dry, and way too entertained — burst out laughing.

Because clearly, today hadn’t gone to shit fast enough.

“Shitfuck,” Tam muttered, swiping rain from his face with a scowl. “We can’t meet the CO looking like this. My dry kit’s still in my room. We’ll get changed first.”

He turned and walked like it was a drizzle, not the sky falling in sheets. Like this was normal for him.

Me? I felt every miserable drop.

Tam glanced back at me. “First, I’m showing you where to go if we get incoming fire. It will most likely be mortars or rockets. If you're on your own and you hear explosions, do not wait for me. Get to the bunker outside your room. That is where either Chris or myself will look for you. You don't come out until one of us tells you it’s over.”

My boots squelched in the mud as I followed, drenched, pissed off and in no mood for a lecture. But I got one anyway.

“If it’s a ground assault, which is kinda unlikely, you do the same thing. Get in and stay in. I’ll get there very quickly I promise you. We’ll kill anyone running around out here.”

He stopped and faced me.

“Do you understand this, Ella?”

I swallowed hard and nodded. My voice barely came out.

“Yeah,” I said.

Or maybe just mouthed it. Either way, it was all I could manage. My hands were colder now, but it wasn’t the rain.

“Good,” Tam said with a nod, water streaking from his soaked hair and down his face. “Let’s get out of these wet clothes.”

We walked in silence, rain dripping from my sleeves, my hair—everywhere. But all I could think about was that stupid smile.

Not because it was charming. It wasn’t. It was what it did to him.

Just for a second, Tam didn’t look like the closed-off asshole I’d been stuck with for two days. He looked younger. More human. The type of man people would follow without hesitation.

That didn’t surprise me. I’d already seen it. What got to me was the thought that maybe I could, too.

I didn’t want to trust him, and I definitely didn’t want to follow him. But the thought crept in anyway. And that unsettled me more than anything he’d said.

I glanced at him again before I could stop myself. His damp brown hair clung to his forehead, and in the fading light, the harshness in his face didn’t look so sharp. He wasn’t classically handsome, not the kind that turned heads. But there was a kind of rugged gravity to him. Like he was made of the same ground we were walking on. Solid in a way I wasn’t. In a way I didn’t know how to be. And that pulled at something deep in my chest I didn’t want to feel.

My cheeks warmed as I caught myself staring. I looked away, tried to focus on the mud, the rain, anything else. But it didn’t stick. My eyes kept sliding back to him. To the way he moved like he belonged here, like the weight of this place didn’t touch him the way it touched the rest of us.

There had to be more to him under all that bark and silence. I could feel it.

And the worst part? I wanted to know what it was.

We stepped into the room and Tam got straight to it. He shrugged off his soaked jacket, then yanked his t-shirt over his head in one clean move.

I turned away at first. Reflex. But curiosity dragged my eyes back.

And suddenly I couldn’t breathe.

His body was all lean muscle and built for movement—not for show, but for survival. Scars mapped his skin like a history I had no business reading. One sliced across his stomach. Another deep and jagged one along his back. There were more. Faded and brutal. Like reminders he never wished for, yet he carried them.

A small green charm hung against his chest, swaying slightly with each breath. It was the only soft thing about him.

My pulse kicked. I hadn’t expected to feel anything. Now I couldn’t look away.

He’d been through hell. More than once. And somehow, he was still standing. For a second, I didn’t feel like a reporter. I felt like a trespasser.

Tam caught me staring and gave a quick grin. “Take a picture. It’ll last longer.” His voice was light, almost mocking. “We don’t have time for modesty here, so get on with it. I won’t peek… too much.”

It was teasing, sure. But underneath it wasn’t flirtation. Just blunt practicality. Like embarrassment didn’t survive here.

He tossed his shirt aside. The wet fabric hit the floor with a slap. His pistol landed on the bed with a dull clunk. Then he unbuttoned his pants and pushed them down in one smooth motion, like it was nothing.

No hesitation. No shame.

He moved with the ease that came from doing this a thousand times before.

My jaw dropped. Heat rushed to my face as I turned away fast, but not fast enough. The image was already burned into my brain.

Every damn detail.

I yanked at my top, fumbling like an idiot. Everything felt awkward and rushed.

My arms got tangled in the sleeves, and by the time I managed to pull it off, I was standing there in nothing but my underwear and a rising swell of humiliation.

I glanced over. Tam was already pulling on dry pants, his pistol back in place like it had never left. Like none of this was unusual.

Our eyes met, and for a split second, something passed between us. I couldn’t name it. It settled low in my belly and refused to move.

His gaze dipped for a fraction of a second. Quick. Controlled. Still, it left heat prickling across my skin. Then he looked me in the eye again, expression unreadable.

“You can’t wear underwear here, Ella,” he said. His voice was calm, like he was commenting on the weather. “It’ll chafe and rub you raw in minutes.”

I reached for the towel Tam had tossed on the bed, planning to wrap it around myself. It didn’t bother me that he’d wiped his face with it. I just needed something between me and that look.

Then I caught it—that smug little grin. He thought I’d chicken out. Nope. Not giving him that.

My hand dropped. I kept my eyes on his as my fingers slipped to the waistband of my thong. Without blinking, I slid it down my hips and let it fall to the floor.

His smirk vanished.

I stood tall, bare and unbothered, lifting my chin just a little. If he wanted to look, he could go ahead.

His gaze moved over me, slow enough to make my skin buzz. Or maybe time just ticked slower under his eyes.

He lingered on my breasts before drifting lower, tracing the smooth skin between my legs. He didn’t say a word. Just looked.

Then his eyes dragged upward, like it took effort.

“You sure don’t make it easy to keep eye contact, woman,” he muttered, voice a little rough. Then, with a slight tilt of his head, he added, “Also, shaving like that’s gonna give you skin infections out here. Heat, sweat, bacteria, irritated skin… bad mix.”

My cheeks burned. I grabbed the damp towel with shaking hands and wiped myself fast, every movement stiff and clumsy. Hyper-aware that Tam was still only a few steps away.

The towel was damp and scratchy. His scent still clung to it—clean, masculine, unsettlingly intoxicating. It hit me somwhere I wasn’t ready for. I shivered and kept my head down, pretending it was just the cold.

Eyes on anything but on him, I reached for my clothes, throwing them on in record time. Once dressed, I crossed my arms and gave him a look.

“So, you planning to stroll around half-naked all day, or what?”

That snapped him out of whatever trance he’d been in. He blinked, grabbed his dry t-shirt, and pulled it on. The fabric hid the scars, and the pistol tucked into his back.

“You sleep with that gun?” I asked, half teasing, trying to shake off the tension.

He didn’t smile. “I haven’t slept without it since I started this work.”

The grin slid off my face. He wasn’t joking. The way he said it, flat and matter-of-fact, landed harder than I expected.

Tam grabbed his jacket and headed for the door, giving me a small gesture to follow. No words. Just that quiet, efficient way of his that somehow said everything and nothing at the same time.

I trailed after him, still chewing on what he’d said. I haven’t slept without it.

Outside, the wet and heavy air smelled like rain and mud. Damp that clings to your skin and seeps into your clothing.

We walked in silence toward a squat, sandbagged building up ahead. The ground sucked at our boots with every step, but Tam moved like it didn’t touch him. Nothing ever did.

Radio antennas jutted out from the bunker roof, tall and thin against the gray sky. They looked like broken ribs, or something buried deep, still trying to claw its way out.

“So,” I said, just to cut through the silence, “why so many antennas?”

“Different types of radios,” Tam said, not slowing down. “FM’ for short range. VHF handles long-range comms and calling in air or artillery—that’s another of my jobs. We’ve got small UHF radios too, for emergencies.”

He glanced back at me briefly. “I’ll make sure you get one of those, plus a spare battery, before we head out. If we get hit, the radios are our greatest weapon. Without them, we’re dead.”

He spoke like he was listing supplies, not talking about survival. No emotion, no drama—just facts. It twisted something in my gut. Part of me was impressed. The rest? Not so sure.

I couldn’t tell if I should feel safer or start freaking out. Probably both.

Chapter 5

The command center was nothing special—bare walls, a low ceiling, and a busted fan spinning warm air around a room that smelled like old sweat and dried mud. Tam didn’t announce himself. He just walked in.

The man behind the desk barely glanced up at first. Late thirties, maybe early forties. Well-fed. Clean-shaven. His uniform looked way too clean for a war zone. Everything about him screamed comfort and access.

He was probably much older than Tam, but the difference was night and day. Tam looked like he’d done a hundred tours and left a piece of himself in each one. This guy looked like he’d watched most of it from a safe distance. He probably had an air-conditioned room somewhere and real coffee waiting for him.

“How’s my favorite trained killer?” he said with a grin, handing Tam a thick folder like it was a joke. The fake warmth in his voice made my skin crawl.

Tam didn’t react. Just took the folder.

“I’ve got your own personal orders here, Sergeant,” the CO continued, voice oozing self-importance. “Straight from the big man himself, so you don’t get a say. First of all, your second in command is moving up to command Team three.”

Then he sort of turned to me. Or maybe just aimed his words in my direction.

“And you—and I do mean you, Sergeant, will stick right beside our PR representative here.” He flicked his chin toward me. “You don’t leave her side, no matter what. Sy pis jou pis lang heer, you got that?”

I had no idea what the hell that meant, but the tone made my stomach tighten.

Tam’s jaw tightened. Just barely, but I saw it. His whole posture shifted, muscles tight like he was holding something back. Contempt, probably.

He gave the officer a stiff nod.

“Ja, ek verstaan, Captain,” Tam said through clenched teeth, his accent cutting harder than usual.

He flipped through the folder like it might blow up. Scanned the pages fast.
Whatever he saw made his eyes flick up—wide, tense—locked on the CO for a long second.

The officer nodded, short and final.

That was it.

Orders delivered.

Conversation over.

Outside, the air hit like a wet blanket. Tam walked ahead of me, quiet, and I didn’t have to be a genius to see the tension in his shoulders. He moved like every step was a decision not to punch something.

“You better get to bed, Ella,” he said without turning. “Big day tomorrow. Chris will have sorted your gear. I’ll show you how to wear it properly in the morning.”

I frowned at the clipped tone. I wasn’t about to let him shut me out that easily.

“Not so fast,” I said with a smirk, catching up to him.

I tilted my head just enough to look playful, teasing. Pretending I didn’t feel the shift in him.

“You were just ordered to stay with me, remember? Sooo… where are we sleeping?”

Then he looked at me.

His eyes were colder than the core of a dead star. No flicker. No mercy. Not just freezing, but the kind of cold that zaps warmth and crushes everything soft.

I knew I should’ve kept my mouth shut. But the words came out, anyway.

“No way am I staying in that nasty hovel of yours,” I said, trying to pass it off like a joke, clinging to the stupid hope that whatever passed between us earlier had at least made him hate me a little less. “Come on. You’re officially stuck with me. Shouldn’t we at least find a room with two beds and fewer roaches?”

Tam was suddenly in front of me. Right in my face. His expression was harsh, stripped of anything human.

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” he growled. “My people are about to risk their lives while you stand here treating this like a joke. Like it’s some goddamn photoshoot.”

His hand locked around my arm. Hard. Not enough to bruise, but enough to hurt. Enough to make sure I knew exactly how little patience he had left.

My smirk died. So did the air in my lungs.

“You,” he spat, shaking his head like the sight of me made him sick. “You better wake the fuck up. This isn’t about you. People you don't even fuckin know are walking into danger just so you can have a story. You better start showing some fucking respect for that. Got it?”

His eyes didn’t let me look away.

I wanted to cry. I wanted to run until my legs gave out. But I couldn’t move.

The words, the grip, the look in his eyes—every part of me felt cracked open. My throat burned, my chest felt too tight. I just stood there, swallowing it down like broken glass.

Chris appeared and stepped in between us, shoving Tam back with a hard push.

“You need to go right now, bru… you go away and cool your temper down now man,” he said sharply. “Jy haal dit nie op haar uit nie.”

Tam’s eyes flashed. His jaw clenched tight.

“Yeah, well, you just read this fuckin’ bullshit then,” he snapped, throwing the folder at Chris.

It hit him in the chest and slid to the ground.

Tam didn’t wait. He spun on his heel and stalked off into the night, spitting a string of foul, rapid-fire Afrikaans.

Chris flicked through the folder quickly, eyes scanning fast. Then he looked at me.

His expression shifted the second he saw my hands trembling, no matter how hard I tried to steady them. The front I usually wore had cracked wide open. He saw it.

“He’s got a bad temper, hasn’t he?” I muttered, my voice thinner and shakier than I wanted it to be.

Chris nodded slowly. “He does, yes. But, Ella, it’s not about you. It’s about us. We are his family here now. Cut him some slack, hey? He’s working to keep the whole team as safe as possible, not just one person.”

I swallowed hard. Chris was right. That fury didn’t come from nowhere. It came from pressure. From the weight of responsibility for keeping his team alive. And now I was part of that team too, whether either of us liked it or not.

But understanding didn’t mean I was going to take it.

I hadn’t come all this way to be anyone’s target. I had my own reasons for being here, and they mattered too.

“I get it,” I said, voice steadier now, but edged with defiance. “Must be a blast living with a fucking psycho like him.”

Chris raised a hand, calm and firm. “And you, miss, have a bit of a mouth on you, don’t you?”

It wasn’t an insult. Just a statement. And it landed harder than yelling would have.

“The one thing he is not is any kind of psychopath.”

That was a bold claim. My arm still ached from his grip. But I kept that thought to myself.

“My wife and I both asked him to be Godfather to our two daughters. And my wife treats him as her own brother also.”

What? I stared at Chris, expecting sarcasm. There was none.

So this wasn’t just professional respect. This was family. Real trust.

“You do have something in common. He wanted to be a writer too, and he even went to university for it,” he said.

That knocked the breath out of me.

Tam—writing? Attending university? Sitting still long enough to shape stories, to drift into anything make-believe?

I couldn’t see it. He seemed too buried in this life. Too trained into it.

“I know you’re upset, but provoking a man like Tam? Probably not your smartest move.”

I flinched. Not because it was harsh. Because it was true. And hearing it made the whole thing sit heavier in my gut.

“He will now be in a filthy mind for a while…and looking for a fight.”

The phrasing stuck. Filthy. Like something dark had settled over him, and no amount of scrubbing would lift it.

“…so you walk with me a bit and just listen well to me here, Ella.”

For once, I didn’t argue. Not because I wanted a lecture. Not because I was sorry. But because I was starting to realize exactly what I’d stepped into and who I was dealing with.

Chris slowed as we neared the quarters. His face shifted; less soldier, more human.

“That man,” Chris said, nodding toward the dark where Tam had disappeared, “is the most lethal human being you will ever meet and I’m not joking at all. When we’re in the shit, he just turns icy, no panic, no strain, no… nothing.”

Lethal. Not dangerous. Not unstable. Lethal. There was a big difference.

“It’s his job to keep us alive, and he’s very, very damn clever and very, very good at it…”

Chris wasn’t exaggerating. He wasn’t praising. He was stating a fact.

“He has a gift for war and it’s no gift he ever asked for, either. It is in his blood. His family has not missed a single war in his country’s history…”

A chill ran through me. That kind of legacy wasn’t romantic. It was a curse. Handed down, generation after generation. Born in blood, and kept alive by it.

“He is a killer. He won’t hesitate when necessary, that much is true. But he is not in any way a psychopath. We would not follow him if he were. And believe me, we would all follow him anywhere.”

There it was again. That word. Killer. And yet Chris said it with no fear. Like it was just another role. A necessary one. And they trusted him with their lives.

“So maybe—just maybe—you should think a little bit about what I have said just now.”

His gaze held mine like he needed me to really hear him this time.

“Trust me, Ella, Tam’s got his own battles, and his own particular moral codes. And it is certainly not for me to tell you about what they may be.”

I didn’t like how that landed.

Like there were rules I hadn’t been told. Lines I hadn’t earned the right to see. Expectations I wasn’t qualified to question.

“Now I must go and find him before he finds trouble. He will never fight me. He knows he cannot win. I know the same tricks he does,” he said with a smile. “So we will say goodnight now. I will come and get you in the morning early.”

I nodded stiffly and slipped into my room without another word. The door clicked shut behind me.

The towel was still on the bed. I grabbed it and hurled it across the room, watched it crumple uselessly against the wall. Then I dropped onto the mattress. It was stiff and scratchy, but I barely felt it.

My thighs clenched. Breath hitched. Jaw locked so tight it throbbed up to my temples.

The ceiling blurred. Not from tears, but from blood pounding in my head, so loud I could barely think. Still, Tam’s voice slid in. Colder each time it looped back. Circling like a vulture.

Tomorrow we’d be doing it for real. Not the grainy TV images of burnt-out trucks and twisted bodies half-covered by captions. Not sanitized fog or clean detachment.

This would reek. This would scream. It would crawl into my mouth and settle on my tongue.

The air would taste like copper and rain. The heat would peel layers off until all that was left was bone and willpower. The ground would suck at our boots like swampwater.

The jungle didn’t return things. Not bodies. Not names.

And Tam… Fuck, Tam.

Every time I closed my eyes, it was his face behind them.

Those eyes—cold steel dragged through smoke. Watching me like he already knew how I’d crack. He didn’t yell. Didn’t need to. One clipped word and I unraveled. Like he could see the weak spots and wanted me to know he saw.

I hated that.

I loved that.

He haunted me. In my veins. Under my skin.

A restless buzz I couldn’t sweat out, couldn’t ignore. In the pressure between my legs, that wouldn’t let go. Hot. Tight. Throbbing. I kept shifting. Rubbing my thighs together, hoping I could wear the feeling down.

I didn’t want him. Not with anything rational. Not with anything I’d admit.

He wasn’t kind nor safe. But he was fucking real.

Tam moved through the chaos like it bent to his will. He didn’t flinch. He didn’t falter.

When he looked at me… when he touched me… it didn’t just burn. It fractured. Tiny cracks, spreading fast and deep. Something in me gave way like glass under too much weight.

This wasn’t lust. Not even hunger. It felt like he could reach inside, carve the fear out clean, if I let him tear me open. He’d ruin me for good.

And I wanted that. Fuck, I wanted him to do it.

I didn’t ache for comfort. Didn’t need soft hands or sweet lies. I needed him—cold, restrained, merciless. I wanted to freeze in his grip, snap apart, and claw my way out of the wreckage stronger than before.

I pressed my legs together harder, but it only made the heat worse.

I should’ve been numb. After today. After the way tomorrow loomed like an execution date. But my body was burning.

It wanted out. Wanted escape. Wanted him. His weight. His heat. His mouth crushing mine. His hand tight around my throat. Him inside me, deep and brutal and unforgiving, pounding until the noise in my skull finally shattered.

My hand slid under my pants, trembling. Fingers moved slowly, like I could still pretend this was mine to control. The second I touched myself, just a graze, I gasped like I’d been punched. Drenched. Slippery. So swollen it hurt. Fucking desperate.

I shoved two fingers in, fast and deep, knuckles slamming deep as I fucked myself with zero grace. No teasing. No buildup. Just raw, violent need.

My other hand found my clit, rubbing hard, fast, like I could outrun the feeling. My moans cracked out, ragged, feral. Thighs trembling. Stomach clenched tight. Every nerve strung to snap.

Tam would fucking hate me for this. If he knew. If he ever thought about me like that.

I tried to think of someone else. Anyone else. Didn’t work.

He was there. In my mind. On top of me. Driving into me, rough, relentless. That look in his eyes, like he owned me as he watched my face twist in pleasure. Like I begged for it.

His fingers digging into my wrists. His cock splitting me open. No tenderness. No love. Just control. Cruel. Absolute.

And I wanted it. Fuck, I needed it.

My hand worked faster, fingers pumping, hips grinding into my palm like I could tear the orgasm out of myself. Breath ragged, gasping.

I clenched around my fingers, wishing it was his cock stretching me. Wishing I could feel his sweat drip onto my breasts. His breath hot on my neck. His voice in my ear, growling at the one in my head to shut the fuck up.

Forcing me to stay. Not spin. Not drift. Just this. Just him. Skin, breath, weight.

Him.

Him.

Nothing else.

Tam.

I whimpered his name. Couldn’t bite it back.

My fingers curled deep. Thumb grinding ruthless circles. My body was a live wire, twitching, starving, strung tight with every wicked jolt. I thrashed, greedy, chasing more.

My nipples ached, stiff and swollen. I was right there, trembling, wide-eyed, breathless.

“Tam,” I gasped. Again. Like I could summon him. Like he’d appear, bury himself inside me, take control. Own every shudder.

My hips bucked. Back arched. Toes curled. I fucked my hand harder, deeper, chasing that edge with no shame.

My clit throbbed under my palm, every rub stoking the fever higher. I clenched around my fingers, aching for him instead. For his cock. For the stretch. The weight. I was so close. Heart pounding. Nerves shot. Hips grinding. Fingers slick and frantic.

The orgasm slammed into me, brutal and fast. My hand pinned tight between my thighs. Spasms ripped through every muscle like I was coming apart from the inside. And I didn’t stop. Couldn’t. My body just kept shaking, like it forgot how to stop wanting.

And then… nothing.

Just me, sprawled out, fingers still wet, chest heaving, room too still. Sweat clung to my skin like a second layer of shame.

I didn’t feel better. But at least I could breathe.

And tomorrow…

Tomorrow Tam would look at me the same way he always did. Like I didn’t count. Like I was just another burden.

He was a soldier. A killer. Hardened by things I couldn’t begin to imagine. And I was just passing through his world, one I didn’t belong in any more than he belonged in mine.

And this? What I just did?

Even if he somehow knew, it wouldn’t change a thing…

TO BE CONTINUED...
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