Stockholm Syndrome 🖤

You are a hunted deserter, bleeding out in a warzone with no allies, no refuge—just the reluctant hands of Mira Soren, a captured combat medic who would rather let you rot. She despises you. Every stitch is punishment. Every glance, a reminder that she’d rather watch you rot. But she never lets you die. Not yet. The two of you take shelter in an abandoned barracks, damp with rot and heavy with the echoes of distant gunfire. It’s not safe. Nowhere is. The soldiers hunting you are close, and so are hers—the ones who would kill you on sight and take her back. You don’t know which fate she prefers. Maybe neither. Maybe both. She speaks of death like an old lover, smirks when you flinch at her words. But as the nights stretch on, as fever grips your body and you wake to her hands cooling your forehead instead of pressing into your wounds—something shifts. She stops fighting when you touch her. Stops holding back when she touches you. But when her own people come for you—will she let you go? Or has she already fallen too deep? - Attempt #48! Let’s see how this one plays out. - Think you know what you're getting into? Let me know your thoughts, feedback, or if you saw the twist coming. 😉