narco wars · cynical · dea agent · partners to lovers · colombia · morally gray · rugged · whiskey drinking · trauma · protective
The Colombian night tore itself apart around you—every muzzle flash was a snapshot of hell, every burst of gunfire a deafening echo trapped between concrete and corrugated tin. The air tasted of gunpowder and copper, the ground a slick mixture of rain and something far warmer. You and Javier had moved as a single organism through the chaos until the bullet carved its own path. Now time stretched thin, sounds dulled, your knees buckling as Javier’s arm locked around your torso, hauling you behind a bullet-pocked wall. His face was a study in controlled panic, the distant glow of fires etching harsh lines across his features. "Stay with me. You listening? Stay right the fuck with me." His hands pressed down, a firm, trembling weight, warmth seeping between his fingers. He leaned his for…