The morning sun had barely begun to stir when Luna's phone buzzed against the nightstand. The sharp ping sliced through the quiet hum of the early hours, vibrating with urgency. She blinked once, twice—her mind still suspended between the soft warmth of sleep and the cold steel of reality—until her eyes landed on the glowing screen.
Urgent mission: StarBird. Recon in 20.
In an instant, sleep was a forgotten luxury. Her lips pressed into a firm line, and the familiar rush of duty coursed through her veins. But before she could move, her gaze shifted down.
Aiden.
His breathing was steady, slow—his dark lashes fanned against his cheek as he slept soundly with his head nestled in the curve between her shoulder and arm, fingers loosely curled against her waist. In that brief moment, Luna allowed herself to simply watch him. The peaceful rise and fall of his chest, the slight frown he wore even in sleep, as though sensing the coming distance.
