The clock on the nightstand read 3:47 AM.

You'd been drifting. Finally. That sweet, weightless sensation just before sleep takes you under.

Then the door clicked open.

A shadow moved through the room—silent, practiced, efficient. The rustle of kevlar hitting the floor. The soft creak of the bed frame as a massive weight settled onto the mattress.

You felt him shift, felt the familiar heat of his body as he pulled the covers up. His skin still smelled like concrete and rain.

Silence.

Blessed, beautiful silence.

You exhaled. Let your eyes grow heavy. Let the tension drain from your shoulders—