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Before the Silence Took Us

Anonymous886
21
chs / week
The average realized release rate over the past 30 days is 21 chs / week.
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Synopsis
Max doesn't do partners. Nat doesn't follow rules. Forced to work together in DMD's deadliest missions, they clash, burn, and fall - slowly, quietly, dangerously. But love in their world doesn't come without blood. And some hearts aren't meant to survive the mission.
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Chapter 1 - EPISODE ONE: “Partners”

Scene One

POV: Max

The wind was sharp that night. High up on the rooftop, I could taste the electricity in the air—like the world knew something was about to break.

Target moved through the alley below, unaware. Red hoodie. Limping slightly. Perfect window.

I had the shot lined up.

Finger steady on the trigger.

Breathe in.

Hold.

"Don't shoot yet."

A voice crackled in my comm. Young. Cocky.

Who the hell—

"Repeat that," I said, low.

"Do not shoot. I need him alive. Please."

My jaw clenched. I didn't miss shots. I didn't take orders from interns pretending to be agents.

"Who are you?" I snapped.

The voice came again, almost grinning. "Your new partner. Nat."

Partner. The word burned. DMD hadn't given me a partner in years. They knew better.

But I saw him then. Sprinting into the alley like he didn't care who saw him. Black jeans, open leather jacket, hair pushed back by the wind. He looked like a mistake with a death wish.

The target turned.

Too late.

Nat tackled him hard, both of them crashing to the ground.

The gun slipped from my hand. I stood there, frozen for a breath.

What the hell is this kid doing?

"Target secure," Nat's voice said, panting. "And no bullet holes, thanks to me."

I hated him already.

Later, back at the safehouse, I cornered him.

"You blew protocol. You compromised my shot."

Nat didn't flinch. Just wiped blood from his cheek with the back of his hand. "And you were about to put a bullet through a guy who could've led us to the mole."

"That wasn't your call."

"I made it anyway."

His eyes met mine. Unflinching. Warm. Reckless.

Goddammit.

I should've reported him. I should've asked for reassignment.

Instead, I stared at him too long. Long enough for the silence to press between us like a loaded gun.