The morning after the almost-disaster on the couch, Denver acted like nothing had happened.
He moved through the safe house with the same controlled efficiency as always—perimeter checks, security tablet, black coffee, silence. The cut above his eyebrow had been cleaned and steri-stripped. He didn’t mention the night before. He didn’t look at Ryan for longer than necessary. When their paths crossed in the hallway he stepped aside with clinical precision, as if proximity itself had become a threat.
Ryan let him have the performance for exactly one day.
On the second morning he changed tactics.
Playful had gotten him a cracked wall and a man who walked away hard and furious. Deliberate would finish the job.
He started with touch.
Nothing overt at first. A hand on Denver’s shoulder as h
