"What if I escape?"
I don't mean to say it out loud.
But there it is, carelessly tossed into the air like a match over dry leaves.
The Commander doesn't even turn his head. His back is to me, still unlatching the last pieces of his armor. There's a long pause. The kind that makes your ears start to ring with your own heartbeat.
Then—
"You won't."
It's not a threat.
It's a statement.
Solid. Final. Annoyingly confident.
I lean back on the cot, arms behind my head like I'm just lounging in some five-star tent and not plotting high treason in enemy territory.
"Oh?" I ask. "And what makes you so sure?"
His tone is maddeningly calm. "You're not stupid."
Wow. Compliment and insult, gift-wrapped in one breath. Classic him.
"And if I was feeling impulsive?"
"You're still not stupid."
I narrow my eyes at his back. "You sound awfully sure of yourself."
He finally turns, pausing with one hand on the table, one eyebrow raised. "Do you want to try it?"
"I might," I shoot back, smirking. "Who's to say I won't disappear before dawn?"
He doesn't smile. Doesn't even blink. But that slow, deliberate look he gives me? It's a promise. One that runs cold down my spine and warm between my ribs.
I hate it.
"I'd find you."
God, why does that sound like the most dangerous line I've ever heard?
"And when I do," he says, voice low, "you'll wish you hadn't."
I should be scared.
I should feel threatened.
Instead... I'm intrigued.
And maybe... just a little turned on. (Don't judge me, 707.)
[SYSTEM 707: Judgment.exe not found. Only cheering you on, Host. ♥]
I snort under my breath and roll to one side, facing the tent wall. "Sounds kinky."
"Only if you run fast enough," he murmurs.
What the fu—
I whip back around, but he's already facing away again, like he didn't just say something that made me mentally combust.
Oh, this bastard plays dirty.
"You know," I say, sitting up again, resting my chin on my palm, "for someone who claims he doesn't care about me, you sure are interested in keeping me nearby."
"I don't claim that."
"Oh? So you do care?"
Another pause.
Another match struck.
He doesn't answer. Just walks toward me, slow steps over the creaky wooden floor of his tent.
I freeze.
He stops just beside the cot, looking down at me. We're eye-level, barely inches apart. The tent is too small. The air is too warm. His presence wraps around me like smoke and steel.
Then, in a voice lower than sin: (should I even describe it that...?)
"I care about knowing what you are."
...
I should've expected that. Should've seen the curveball. But gods, the way he says it,
It doesn't sound like a soldier trying to expose a spy.
It sounds like a man trying to solve a puzzle that's been haunting him.
My breath catches. Just for a second. But I see it. The way his eyes flick to my mouth, then back to my eyes. Like he's waiting. Testing.
[SYSTEM 707: ⚠️ EMOTIONAL VOLATILITY SPIKE DETECTED.]
[HOST, YOU ARE FLIRTING WITH A POTENTIAL BOSS BATTLE.]
I lean back just enough to whisper, "What if you're not ready for the answer?"
He stares.
For a heartbeat, for a breath, I think he might lean in. Might close that impossible space between us. Might abandon every reason, every rule.
But instead,
He steps back.
Turns away.
Sits at his desk again.
...And says nothing.
Just silence.
Sharp. Final.
Unbearable.
So I lie back down, frustrated, flushed, and utterly defeated.
Not by ropes. Not by swords. But by the fact thatI kind of want him to chase me.
And even more dangerously...
I kind of want to let him catch me.