The second circuit went without incident. The third dragged. At some point during the fourth, Shaw stopped abruptly, hand coming up in a signal that made Hudsonfreeze instantly. Adrenaline pumped through his system before his brain caught up to what was happening.
Shaw remained perfectly still, head tilted, eyes scanning the dark. Hudson didn't move. Didn't breathe. Just waited.
After what felt like minutes but was probably only thirty seconds, Shaw relaxed. His hand dropped. "Animal," he said barely audibly. "Probably."
Hudson exhaled, willing his heart rate back down. "Jesus Christ. You say that like it's reassuring."
There might've been a flicker of amusement in Shaw’s eyes. Hard to tell in the dark. "What? You afraid?"
"No. But I’d rather not fight a bear right now. I'm tired, my joints hurt, and I'm pretty sure I lost a few toes during the last circuit."
Shaw's mouth did that almost-smile thing again.
By the time their shift finally ended, Hudson's body ached. His legs felt like lead. His shoulders screamed from holding tension against the cold. Even his jaw hurt from clenching it to keep his teeth from chattering. One long, low-grade misery.
Shaw checked his watch and nodded once. "That's us."
"Thank fuck," Hudson muttered. “I was starting to think this would never end.”
They walked back toward the barracks together, close enough their shoulders almost touched with each step. Hudson was aware of Shaw beside him in a way he hadn't been at the start of the shift. The silence felt different now. Less awkward at least.
"Same time tomorrow?" Hudson joked as they reached the door.
Shaw took a few more steps. "If we're assigned."
Hudson smiled. "We will be.”
CHAPTER FOUR
ELLIOT
Elliot peeledoff his jacket the second he reached the barracks. Six hours. He had managed six hours of Hale's running commentary without losing his composure.
He deserved a fucking medal.
Elliot set his boots neatly by his bunk and unlaced them methodically. Then he headed straight for the showers.
The locker room was empty, the overhead strip light flickering at one end, the floor still damp from whoever had last used it. It smelled of mildew, industrial soap, and the staleness of a room that never fully dried out.
He stripped down.
The shower block was a row of four open heads along a tiled wall, no dividers. Privacy was a civilian concept.
He cranked the heat all the way up, stepped under the spray, and tipped his head forward, water hitting the back of his neck until his shoulders finally dropped. His skin went from numb to oversensitive in the space of thirty seconds. He adjusted the temperature up another degree and braced his forearms against the tile.
Elliot shut his eyes. He was suddenly uncomfortablyaware of his body—of heat and sensation he usually kept under control.
He adjusted his stance, trying to shake it off, but it didn’t help.
Elliot had written Hale off as loud. Distracting. A problem to manage. Somewhere around hour four that stopped being entirely true. Hale was still fucking annoying. Talked too much. Grinned like everything was a game. But he also moved clean, efficient, strong without showing off—and Elliot found himself watching longer than necessary.
Apparently just thinking about Hale was enough. Heat pooled low in his stomach.
Elliot swore under his breath and turned his face into the spray.
Merde.
It had been a long time since someone surprised him like this. He usually saw it coming. Shut it down early, filed it undernot gonna happenand moved on. This felt less deliberate but a hell of a lot more inconvenient.
