Seraphina’s POV
The morning sun stread through the office windows as I settled into Damien’s chair—our chair, I reminded myself. It still felt strange sitting behind this massive mahogany desk, surrounded by the scent of leather and his cologne that lingered in the room even though he’d been gone for two days.
*Miss you already,* I sent through our mindlink, testing the connection as I shuffled through the stack of reports waiting for my attention.
His response ca back warm and imdiate. *Miss you too, beautiful. How’s our little one treating you this morning?*
I smiled, unconsciously placing my hand over my still-flat stomach. *Better today. Actually managed to keep breakfast down.*
*Good. I love you both.*
The connection faded, leaving with that familiar mixture of comfort and longing. At least the mindlink was working perfectly. I could feel him there, like a warm presence in the back of my mind, even when we weren’t actively communicating.
A knock on the door interrupted my thoughts. "Co in," I called out, straightening my shoulders and trying to project the confidence of soone who belonged in this chair.
Marcus entered, carrying a tablet and wearing his usual serious expression.
"Luna, the morning patrol reports are ready for your review," he said, his gruff voice softer than usual.
"Thank you, Marcus. Please, sit." I gestured to the chair across from the desk, noting how he waited for my permission before settling in. A week ago, he probably would have just plopped down without thinking twice.
"How did the night patrols go?" I asked, scanning the first report.
"Quiet. Too quiet, if you ask ," Marcus said, then seed to catch himself. "But your suggestion about rotating the patrol routes every six hours instead of twelve worked perfectly. Even if there were rogues out there, they wouldn’t be able to predict our movents."
I felt a little thrill of pride.
Marcus leaned forward slightly, his weathered face earnest. "Luna, I have to say—in thirty years of military service, I’ve seen a lot of leaders. You’ve got the gift."
My cheeks ward at the complint. After Marcus left, I sat back in the chair, processing his words. *They think I’m doing well,* I sent to Damien, unable to contain my excitent.
*Of course they do,* ca his imdiate response, and I could feel his pride through the bond. *You’re incredible, Sera. I knew you’d be perfect at this.*
The warm glow of his confidence wrapped around like a hug. *How are things on your end?*
*Still no sign of rogue activity. Starting to think they really did scatter after our trap. Will check in later—heading into a dead zone for radio signals.*
*Be careful. I love you.*
*Always am. Love you more.*
---
By the third day, I was starting to feel like I actually knew what I was doing. The morning eting with the senior staff had gone smoothly—we’d discussed supply allocations, training schedules, and civilian protection protocols without a single argunt or confused look in my direction.
My chest swelled with pride, and I had to resist the urge to imdiately share the praise with Damien through our mindlink. He was in another communication dead zone, had been for most of the morning. The silence felt strange after two days of constant contact.
*Damien? You there?* I tried sending, but got only empty air in response.
A little knot of worry started forming in my stomach, but I pushed it down. He’d warned about the dead zones. Mountain terrain played havoc with both radio signals and mindlink connections. It was perfectly normal.
Perfectly normal.
"Sera?" Riley’s voice brought back to the present. "Everything okay?"
"Yes, sorry. Just trying to check in with Damien," I said, forcing a smile. "What were you saying about the new dical supplies?"
By evening, the knot in my stomach had grown into a full-sized pretzel of anxiety. It had been nearly eight hours since I’d heard from Damien—the longest stretch of silence since he’d left.
"Mommy, you’re making your worried face again," Adrian observed from his spot on the living room carpet, where he was coloring a picture of what appeared to be a very happy dinosaur wearing a crown.
"I’m not worried," I said automatically, then caught myself. "Okay, maybe a little worried. Daddy hasn’t checked in today."
Adrian considered this with the seriousness he brought to all important matters. "Maybe his phone died? Or maybe he’s hiding from bad guys and can’t talk?"
"Maybe," I agreed, though neither explanation made feel better. Damien’s equipnt was military-grade—it didn’t just die. And if he was in a situation where he couldn’t communicate, that ant...
No. I wasn’t going to go down that road. Damien was fine.
*Damien?* I tried again, pushing the thought out as strongly as I could. *Please respond if you can hear this.*
Nothing. Not even the faint background warmth I usually felt from our connection.
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