Twenty klicks.
Shaw adjusted his pack. "Ready?"
"Ready."
They started walking.
For the first hour, they didn't talk much. Just moved through the terrain with efficiency. The weight was considerable, and the uneven ground made every step a negotiation with gravity. But they found a rhythm, switching off who led, adjusting grips on the equipment, anticipating each other's movements without needing to speak.
It should’ve felt routine, but it didn’t. Three words sat between them like unfinished business, heavier than anything in Hudson’s pack.We’re done.
Around the ninety-minute mark, the trail broadened and Shaw dropped back to walk beside him rather than ahead. Hudson felt the shift immediately.
"Reed's not going to report us," Hudson said.
Shaw didn't break stride. But the posture of his shoulders changed, a fraction of tension releasing that he probably didn't know was visible. "When did you talk to him?"
"Yesterday morning. Ambushed him before formation."
"And?"
"And he's fine. Gave me a whole speech about being careful. Questioned my taste in men.” Hudson smirked at him. “But he's not going to say anything."
Shaw’s lips pressed into a tight line. "Briggs is a different problem."
"Yeah." Hudson adjusted the grip on his pack. "He made a comment during patrol. Nothing concrete though—I think he's guessing. But he suspects enough to make things difficult if he wants to."
"He wants to," Shaw said flatly.
The trail climbed and the weight shifted across Hudson’s shoulders, harder on the uphill. Somewhere above them a bird called once and fell silent.
"What I said in the storage room," Hudson started.
"It’s fine."
"No. I?—"
"Not here." Shaw's voice was even—the voice he used in briefings, when he was making a decision and not inviting debate. "We have thirteen klicks left and four hours of daylight. Whatever you want to say, it can wait."
Hudson exhaled through his nose. "Shaw?—"
"Later." Shaw shot him a brief look that revealed his eyes weren't quite as controlled as his voice. "We'll talk tonight."
Hudson held his gaze for a second, then focused on the trail.
"Fine."
The hiketo the ranger station tested every ounce of patience Hudson had.
Shaw was right there. Close enough to touch, close enough that Hudson could smell him under the cold and the pine, and he couldn't do anything about it. They had objectives to complete, checkpoints to hit, an entire exercise to finish before they could afford to drop their guard.
But every time Shaw's shoulder brushed his, when their hands touched, reaching for the same piece of gear, Hudson felt the anticipation tingle all over his body. His face, his spine, his dick.
They'd been hiking for hours when the station finally came into view through the snow-covered trees.
The structure was old but solid. A small wooden cabin with a stone chimney, shuttered windows, and a covered porch. Isolated and private. Miles from the nearest trail marker.
Hudson’s brain spiraled into territory that definitely wasn’t covered in the mission brief.
