Page 9 of Stalked By the Quartermaster

He nods, hesitating for a moment before leaving me to my fortress of solitude and endless stacks of supplies. Alone again with the ghost of Caroline's smile, the weight of her absence settling heavier on my shoulders by the minute.

Fuck it.

I make my decision in a heartbeat, the longing for her overpowering reason or protocol. If Captain Mitchell knew I was going AWOL to chase after her, he'd have my stripes. But love, or whatever the hell this fire is inside me, doesn't give a damn about rank.

In the shadowed corner of my quarters, I shove essentials into a pack—ammo, rations, a compact first aid kit. My movements are precise, practiced. Years of training ensure I'm silent as a ghost. No one must know, especially not Caroline.

The cool night air bites at my skin as I slip out. I keep to the darkness, heart pounding in sync with my boots against the dirt. This is insanity, but she's worth every risk, every consequence. She's the light to my dark, the calm to my storm.

With each step, I can almost feel her closer, the electric pulse of her spirit drawing me like a beacon. I'll follow her into hell if I have to.

And God help anyone who tries to stop me.

CHAPTER

SEVEN

Frank

The night wraps around us like a shroud, and I'm nothing more than a shadow trailing another. My eyes stay locked on the two figures ahead. Caroline's golden hair almost glows in the moonlight. Beside her, Sam moves with a grace that belies her sharp, soldier's edge. They're a damn impressive pair, all sleek determination and steely nerves as they navigate the treacherous path toward enemy lines.

"Keep your spacing," Caroline murmurs, a whisper meant only for Sam but carried back to me by a traitorous breeze. "Eyes sharp."

"Always," comes Sam's hushed reply, a hint of a smirk in her voice. They trust each other implicitly. It's written in every silent gesture, every shared glance. It's a bond forged in fire, and I feel a pang of something like envy—because that's what I crave, too, with Caroline. That deep, unspoken understanding.

I keep my distance, though every fiber in my being screams to bridge the gap, to fall into step beside her and face whatever hell awaits together. But I can't. Not yet. My presence here is as forbidden as the ache that twists my gut every time she fades slightly from view.

The terrain grows rougher, their steps more cautious, but they move with a practiced ease that speaks volumes of their training. And skill. They're ready for this, for anything.

Watching Caroline, there's a war waging inside me. The soldier knows his place, knows not to interfere. But the man? That part of me is feral, wild with the need to shield her from harm. To claim her as mine out loud, screw the consequences. Because with every step she takes away from me, it's like she's walking deeper into my damn soul.

A rustle in the underbrush has me freezing, heart hammering against my ribs. Caroline and Sam pause, too—a pair of statues in the night. Their hands hover near their weapons, bodies taut with anticipation. But it's just a small animal scurrying by, oblivious to the human drama unfolding.

"False alarm," Caroline sighs, and I echo the breath I didn't realize I'd been holding. This is agony, pure and sweet—a cocktail of fear and longing that's got me drunk on her, even from afar.

They continue on, and so do I, a ghost haunting their footsteps, my own mission clear.

Follow, protect, yearn.

The crack of a twig snaps me back to the moment, and I see it—the hitch that spells trouble. Through the night-vision scope, I watch Caroline and Sam freeze. A searchlight sweeps perilously close to their position at the perimeter of the enemy base. They're boxed in.

"Get out of there," I mutter under my breath, knowing they can't hear me. My fingers itch for action. I can't just stand by.

They move, swift as shadows, but it's not enough. The beam catches Sam's heel, and hell breaks loose. Alarms blare, turning the once silent night into a cacophony of chaos. And then I'm moving, no longer an observer but an actor on this dangerous stage.

"Frank?" Caroline's shock is a palpable thing as I burst through the undergrowth, grabbing her arm and pulling her down to cover. "What are you?—"

"Later," I growl, my heart hammering like gunfire in my chest. With the enemy hot on our heels, we run. Sam's with us, panting hard, and there's no time for questions, only the relentless drive to survive.

We make it back, somehow, the base's gates closing behind us with a thud that sounds like salvation.

Sam’s eyes flick between us before she nods at me in thanks and turns to leave us alone.

I release Caroline, and our eyes lock—a silent conversation of fear, relief, and something more combustible.

"Frank," she whispers, and her voice is like a torch to the dry tinder of my restraint.

"I couldn't let you..." My words trail off. There’s no point in explanations, not when the air between us sizzles with something urgent, something primal.

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