Chapter 8

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t he headlights cut through the night, revealing stretches of rocky terrain and endless sand. The Afghan landscape stretched out like a barren wasteland, the moon’s weak glow doing fuck-all to brighten it.

The wind whispered through the windows, carrying the stench of dust and burning shit from somewhere far off. I ignored the sharp pain gnawing at my chest, right above my right lung, and pressed harder on the gas.

The rugged terrain wasn’t doing me any favors, either. It felt like the whole fucking landscape was flipping me off. The pain was getting worse, but I sure as hell wasn’t about to let that stop me. I gritted my teeth, holding the steering wheel tighter, the ache pounding with every beat of my heart. Each mile felt like another knife twisting in my side, but I pushed through. No time to be a pussy about it.

The Afghan landscape flashed by, a combination of dusty plains and jagged mountains, like a middle finger to anyone who dared to fuck with this land. The darkness continued to swallow us, a sign of the shitstorm we were walking into, but I didn’t give a fuck. I’d plow through it like a juggernaut. This scenery was almost like a dirty mistress, intoxicating and dangerous, but I thrived in that fucked-up chaos.

My mind churned with thoughts of how the hell I was gonna justify Red’s presence to the commander. I needed a damn good reason to justify why she was with me, something that would make the commander understand.

Glancing at her, who sat silently beside me, I fought the urge to unleash a string of curses. Her fingers were tracing the bare skin of her neck, right where her necklace used to hang. She was looking so fucking vulnerable, and it pissed me off to no end. I didn’t sign up for babysitting duty, but here I was, stuck with her, unable to stay mad at her for long.

My eyes caught sight of the dried blood on Red’s cheek and the fresh wound on her neck. A wave of fury surged through me, an inexplicable rage directed at those bastards who dared to hurt her.

Without a second thought, I slammed on the brakes, bringing the car to a screeching halt. Red startled beside me, her eyes widening as I unbuckled my seatbelt and stormed out of the vehicle.

“Get out, Red” I demanded, not bothering to soften my tone.

The nickname ‘Red’ slipped off my tongue effortlessly a way to keep distance, to avoid whatever fucked-up feelings were starting to creep in.

She hesitated for a moment, but the fire in my eyes must have convinced her. She quickly followed suit, stepping out of the car as I led her towards the trunk.

“Why did we stop?” she asked, looking at me with confusion in her eyes. “I thought this is a dangerous area,” she added with a hint of mocking in her voice.

I clenched my jaw, the annoyance bubbling to the surface. I couldn’t believe her nerve. After everything we had just been through, she had the audacity to mock me for being cautious?

“Oh, so now you’re suddenly concerned about our safety?”

With a rough yank, I wrenched open the trunk, revealing a mess of tools and equipment.

“No need to be an asshole,” she shot back, but I couldn’t care less.

I ignored her, my focus solely on finding something to tend to her annoying wounds that fucked up my mental peace. I dug through the cluttered mess, hoping to find something useful. My fingers brushed against a box, and I snatched it up but as I teared it open, all I found was a pile of useless junk.

“You’ve gotta be shitting me,” I cursed under my breath, tossing the useless box aside in frustration.

My eyes darted around the trunk, desperate to find something useful. But all I got was a bottle of cheap-ass scotch buried under tools and spare parts.

Fuck it.

I twisted the cap off and took a long swig, feeling the burn scorch its way down my throat. It hurt like hell, but at least it numbed the pain ripping through my chest. With every sip, the sting dulled, replaced by a warmth that was starting to feel really good.

It stung like a bitch, but I could tell it was working. My pain seemed to lessen with each sip.

Another gulp, and I felt the fire spread. It fueled something deeper, making me push past the pain. If I couldn’t find medical supplies, I’d make do with what I had.

I yanked a strip from my t-shirt, tearing through the fabric without giving a shit. Soaked it in the scotch, then turned my attention to Red.

“Sit your ass in the open trunk,” I said without even looking at her.

She obeyed, lowering herself down into the open trunk and sitting with her legs dangling out of the car. With a gentle yet firm touch, I pressed the soaked cloth against Red’s cheek, using it to clean away the dried blood and disinfect the wound.

As I moved lower to the one on her neck, she winced, pulling back slightly. Her sharp intake of breath told me it stung like hell. But I didn’t apologize, because sometimes pain was the price we had to pay for survival.

“Who gave you that necklace?” I asked, trying to suppress my annoyance.

I continued to clean the wound, this time trying to be as gentle as I could. With each touch, each goddamn stroke of the cloth against her soft skin, I couldn’t help but notice how it feels, how it made me crave more of her. The scent of alcohol and the faint hint of her perfume mingled in the air, creating a strange concoction that stirs something deep within me. This wasn’t my usual territory. I wasn’t accustomed to being gentle or showing any care.

Nor did I want it to be.

“My father,” she replied, her eyes meeting mine briefly before darting away.

Great. Daddy issues.

Just what I needed. But those green eyes of hers? They did something to me. Something I couldn’t shake off, no matter how hard I tried. I shoved that thought down deep, hiding it behind layers of self-control.

“Well, your father must be really proud to see his little girl end up like this,” I sniggered, rolling my eyes.

Red glared at me as if she was trying to figure out whether or not was I truly serious about what I’ve just said. She suddenly stood up, her fiery gaze fixed on me.

“Who the hell do you think you are talking to me like that?” she spat, angry at me.

I remained unfazed, even smiled a little at her reaction. “I’m the one who kept you alive,” I reminded her.

I towered over her, using my height to make my point. But despite her smaller frame, her gaze held a dangerous intensity that sent a thrill of arousal through me.

My eyes hungrily roamed over her chest, and goddamn, I couldn’t help but imagine my hands on those perfect tits. Her shorts barely covered her ass, leaving her legs out for me to ogle. The sight of her, vulnerable and exposed, sent a surge of heat straight to my aching groin.

God, she turned me on.

But I knew better than to trust my dick. Still, something about Red was making it hard to think straight.

Fuck, she was a goddamn distraction.

“So did I!” she protested, her voice growing louder.

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. She had a point. But that didn’t mean I had to agree.

“Sure, and you also nearly got us killed,” I shot back, doing my best to ignore the growing ache between my legs.

Closing the distance between us, I allowed our bodies to brush against each other, relishing in the charged atmosphere. Our proximity was suffocating, the tension thick enough to cut with a damn knife. My body reacted, betraying me with an involuntary shiver as her gaze met mine.

Leaning in, my voice dropped to a low, dangerous tone, “You think you can stand up to me, Red? You’ve got no fucking idea what I’m capable of.”

Her eyes stayed defiant, but I saw that flicker of doubt. It was satisfying, knowing I had the power to rattle her.

Unable to resist any longer, I allowed my fingertips to trail along her neck, relishing in the softness beneath my touch. The sensation shot through me, my erection getting harder by the second. She was getting to me, and fuck, I was starting to enjoy it.

I pressed my body against hers, letting her feel how hard I was. “You like that, don’t you? I teased, my lips dangerously close to her ear. “The way I make you feel,” I growled, my voice rough with lust.

Her defiance faltered for a second, and I saw the cracks in her armor. That weakness, that vulnerability—fuck, it made her all the more irresistible.

Her breath hitched, and I could feel the heat rolling off her, the thick scent of arousal hanging in the air. Her trembling hands rose up like she was about to pull me closer. But instead, they shoved against my chest, firm, unyielding.

“Stop playing these games with me!” she commanded and I kinda enjoyed her being bossy.

She was trying to fight it, but deep down, she knew I had her pegged. My cock was aching, throbbing in my pants, but her words cut through the haze of desire, snapping me back to the reality of our fucked-up situation. Reluctantly, I backed off, my body screaming for release.

“What games?” I asked innocently, my eyes locked on her with an intensity that betrayed my filthy thoughts.

Red’s face curled into a grimace as her cheeks burned red. “You know exactly what I’m talking about,” she replied, her breath catching in her throat.

“Oh, you mean this ?” I said, suddenly moving closer to her.

My hand found her thigh, fingers sliding upward, exploring the soft skin toward her hip. Her face flushed even redder as she tried to pull away, but I held her tight.

“Rogue, let me go,” she pleaded, attempting to twist free from my grasp.

“I can feel your pulse,” I said, my voice husky and low. “And your pupils are dilated,” I added, studying every little reaction.

Her green eyes were like a fucking trap, pulling me in, making it hard to breathe. Goddammit, I didn’t want to feel this way. Not about her. I couldn’t let myself get distracted by base, primal urges, no matter how much she was tempting me.

My fist clenched the soaked cloth so tight my knuckles turned white, the wet fabric absorbing some of the tension ripping through me.

I backed the hell off, putting distance between us, needing to cool the fuck down. The air was thick with whatever that moment between us was, and I needed a second to shake it off.

Red stood there, frozen, her breath ragged, trying to process what just happened.

Yeah, Red. You and me both.

A wave of shame crashed over me, but I shoved it down. No time for that shit. She reached into the trunk and pulled out the bottle of scotch, taking a long, deep swig before handing it to me. I grabbed the bottle, our fingers brushing for a second.

“It’s not my favorite,” she said, gesturing towards the bottle in my hands.

I chuckled, the sound rough and hoarse. “What’s your favorite?” I asked, eager to change the subject. “Please don’t tell me you’re a vodka girl.”

Red’s gaze turned distant for a moment, as if lost in memories. “Bourbon,” she replied without hesitation, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Make it strong, make it burn.”

I gladly accepted the change in subject, relieved to have a momentary respite from the tension between us. “Why the hell bourbon?”

I took a long swig, the taste of cheap alcohol burning down my throat, just what I needed to take the edge off. I savored the burn, relishing in its bliss.

“Was my father’s favourite,” she answered. “I drank it with him.” I capped the bottle, the metallic click echoing in the air before I tossed it back in the trunk, not giving a shit where it landed.

“What a surprise, you’re a daddy’s girl,” I stated, a bit mockingly.

Red’s anger flared, her eyes flashing with hurt and rage. “He is dead, you cold bastard,” she replied bitterly, her words hitting me like a fucking hammer.

It took me a second to process that.

“Shit, I am sorry,” I mumbled, and for once, I actually meant it.

As I locked eyes with Red, her face started to crumble, and I could see the tears threatening to spill. A damn tsunami ready to break loose, and fuck, it caught me off guard. Left me feeling awkward as shit. It was one of those cheesy moments, the kind where you’re supposed to be tender, understanding, all that crap—but hell, that wasn’t my style. I was more at home with bullets and blood than I was with emotions or whatever the fuck this was.

Something stirred inside me, an unfamiliar tug of concern. Against my better judgment, I reached out, my rough hand grazing her cheek. My touch felt awkward as fuck, like a virgin fumbling in the dark. I had no business doing this shit, but there I was, stumbling through it like an idiot.

Red didn’t cry, though. Her body trembled under my fingers, like she was searching for something—something I couldn’t fucking give. She swallowed her tears, chin trembling, and there I stood, like a dumbass, not knowing how the hell to comfort her.

“Fuck,” I muttered, frustration spilling out with my breath.

Her face was on the edge of breaking apart, delicate features hanging by a thread. She was a fucking contradiction—a mess, but beautiful in a way that sucked me in. Her green eyes, fuck, they were like some kind of oasis in a desert. And that wild red hair? Made me want to run my hands through it, feel it tangled in my fingers.

I was used to the fucked-up and broken. I liked finding solace in the wreckage of other people. But Red? She was different. Off-limits. Forbidden. No matter how much I wanted a taste, I couldn’t have her. She deserved someone stable, someone not built to destroy everything in their path like I was.

Her vulnerability tugged at my darkest desires, making me want to claim her, protect her from all the chaos. But I knew better. My own darkness would eat her alive, leave her in broken fucking pieces.

It was a goddamn torment.

I wasn’t wired for this sentimental bullshit. I could break bones, not mend hearts. So I stepped back, my hand pulling away like a scolded dog. The moment evaporated, replaced by a thick wall of discomfort. I was a soldier, a hardened bastard who lived for violence and detachment.

Not some fucking simp.

“Enough with this shit,” I grumbled. “I’m not your therapist so save your tears for someone who gives a fuck.”

Her lips trembled, and the hurt on her face was impossible to miss. But I kept going, defenses up, burying any trace of sensitivity deep down.

“Look,” I continued, my tone biting and harsh. “Life’s a fucked-up mess, and nobody’s gonna hold your hand through it. So, quit your whining and toughen the fuck up.”

I watched the pain in her eyes deepen, a twinge of guilt pricking at the back of my mind. But I quickly pushed it aside, refusing to let my walls crumble.

My gaze lingered on her longer than it should have. There was a part of me that wanted to stay, to protect her. But I knew better. This was war, and personal attachments? They were a fucking liability.

I closed the trunk with a forceful slam, and turned away. My gaze flickered towards Red, her eyes filled with hurt and confusion. But I couldn’t fucking bear to look at her for another goddamn second.

With a heavy sigh, I turned away from her, my heart pounding in my chest. The way she challenged me, stood up to my bullshit, it turned me on like nothing else. The conflict within me was raging, tearing me apart. I wanted to pull her into my arms, apologize for being a bastard. But my pride, my fear—they held me back. I would be the cold-hearted, ruthless bastard that I needed to be.

The vulnerability that came with giving a damn was overwhelming, and being an asshole seemed so much fucking easier, so much safer.