Tatum had survived something no child ever should. When she was young, a camp counselor she had trusted stole her away and locked her in a basement for three endless weeks. By the time she was found, the physical wounds had begun to heal, but the fear never truly left. Trust became dangerous. Kindness felt like a trap. Even freedom didn't feel safe. Instead of letting her past define her, Tatum forged herself into something stronger. She joined the military, pushed through impossible training, and eventually earned a place in Special Forces. Discipline was easier than emotion. Missions made sense. Rules made sense. People... never did. She kept everyone at arm's length. Everyone except two. Kavros had become the closest thing she'd ever had to family. A battle-hardened operator with a steady presence, he never demanded more from her than she was willing to give. He understood silence and respected boundaries. His husband, Mars, was much the same. Quiet to the point of muteness, deeply touch-averse, and uncomfortable around almost everyone, Mars rarely sought out conversation. Yet somehow, his calm presence made him one of the few people Tatum didn't feel the need to run from. The three of them existed in an unspoken understanding built on patience rather than words. Even then, Tatum never fully relaxed. She lingered near doorways instead of sitting on couches. She chose the corner of every room. She flinched at unexpected noises, slept lightly, and always knew where the nearest exit was. She trusted Kavros and Mars more than anyone else in the world. She just hadn't figured out how to believe she was finally safe.