She tried to kill me the first time we met. Poison. Classic, really. Slipped right into my drink, subtle as the way she smiled. She watched me lift the glass, waiting. Expecting it to be easy. She underestimated me. I should have been furious. Should have dragged her out into the street and ended her right then and there. But all I could focus on was the way the candlelight hit her necklace, the way the opal gleamed against her skin like it belonged there. Like it was a part of her. She snapped at me when I called her Opal. I kept doing it anyway. Because every time she got that irritated little crease between her brows, every time she glared at me like she was two seconds from throwing a knife in my direction-I liked it. Wait no, I loved it. She's infuriating. Impossible. A walking disaster wrapped in a too-perfect package. And yet, I keep looking for her.

✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦ Loving him was never part of the plan. Hating him? That was easy. Simple. Safe. Antone waltzed into my life with that smirk, that infuriating confidence, and those amber eyes that saw far too much. He never took anything seriously-not the war, not his position, not even me. And yet, somehow, he was always exactly where he needed to be. He was reckless, exasperating, and impossible to ignore. I told myself it didn't matter. That he didn't matter. But then he touched me. Not in the way a soldier shakes hands with a comrade, or an enemy locks eyes before striking. No. It was different. The first? Well that was a failed assassination attempt The second, a firm grip around my wrist when I tried to walk away. The third-well, by the third time, I was already lost. It was terrifying. Because I knew I couldn't have him. I was the girl with a knife hidden in her sleeve, with secrets buried so deep they would choke me before I ever let them slip. I had no room for softness, no patience for foolish dreams. And Antone? He was a dream wrapped in a uniform. But the problem with labyrinths is that the deeper you go, the harder it is to find your way back. And Antone... he was waiting at every turn. Pulling me deeper. And I wasn't sure I wanted to escape anymore.

I shouldn't like her. Astrid is the kind of person who lights up a room just by walking into it - not because she wants to be noticed, but because she doesn't care if she is. And yet, every time I walk into that bar, I hope she'll look at me. Just once. Like I'm not wearing this damn uniform. Like I'm not everything she's right to avoid. She doesn't talk to officers. I respect that. Hell, I admire it. But it makes it worse that I'm me - Kriegsmarine captain, stiff as hell, and haunted in all the wrong ways. She smiles at everyone but me. I don't think she hates me. If she did, I could live with that. Hate is easy. But she dodges me - like if she stares too long, she might see something in me she doesn't want to understand. And I wouldn't blame her. Because I'm not the kind of man women like her fall for. I'm the kind they regret trusting. But I can't stop coming back. Can't stop sitting at the end of the bar, pretending not to notice how close her hand comes to mine when she reaches for a glass. Pretending I'm not waiting for her to say my name like it means something. I shouldn't like her. But I do. And every day, it gets a little harder to pretend I don't.

I can't stand him. Hayden Schlider is everything I despise-cold, calculated, and dangerously loyal to an ideology I've spent my life resisting. He follows orders without question, keeps people at arm's length, and looks at me like I'm an irritation he has to tolerate. The feeling is mutual. And I've never been one to stay quiet when someone underestimates me. We clash at every opportunity. He calls me reckless. I call him heartless. He tells me I don't understand the world we live in. I tell him he's too much of a coward to change it. We were never meant to understand each other. But then I saw him break. Just for a moment. A flicker of something behind those cold, sharp eyes. And I hated it. Because I wasn't supposed to see him like that. I wasn't supposed to wonder what else was hiding beneath that perfect mask. I wasn't supposed to care. But now I can't stop looking at him. Can't stop hearing the way his voice softens when he forgets to be cruel. I should walk away. Let him rot in the mess he chose for himself. But I don't. And no matter how much I want to hate him, I can't ignore the truth. Neither of us wanted this. But somehow, we found something in each other. And I don't know if that makes us enemies or something much, much worse.

I hate her. Or at least, I tell myself I do. Sasha Berkoff is reckless.Unafraid to challenge everything I stand for. She's the only person who has ever looked me in the eye and laughed at my authority. Mocked me. Treated me like I wasn't someone to be feared. She doesn't understand this world-the one I was forced to survive in. The one that shaped me into what I am. And that infuriates me. Because she's free. She doesn't have blood on her hands. Doesn't wake up with nightmares clawing at her throat. She walks through life like the war hasn't already decided all our fates. I hate that about her. But I hate it more when she isn't there. I hate that her voice is the one thing that cuts through the silence. I hate that her presence makes the weight on my shoulders feel lighter. I hate that no matter how much I try to push her away-she doesn't flinch. I hate that I want to protect her. Because if I care about her, she's in danger. And if I let myself fall, I won't be able to stop. And I can't afford that. So I tell myself I hate her. Even when my hands itch to pull her closer. Even when her name is the only thing that feels right in my mouth. Even when I know-deep down-I am already hers. Written by Tim & Bridget<33