"She's got you there, Captain." His grin is absolutely shameless. "Station response time improved by forty percent once Chief Murphy took command. The crews actually knew what they were doing instead of standing around looking confused."
I turn my smile on Bear, finding an ally in an unexpected place.
"Thank you, Bear. Nice to have someone acknowledge operational facts instead of getting defensive about constructive criticism."
"Constructive criticism?" Aidric's voice rises several decibels. "You called my leadership an organizational failure!"
"Because it was," I reply simply, examining my nails like this conversation barely merits my attention. "But it's fixable withproper protocols, consistent training, and a chief who actually understands how to manage emergency operations."
"I understand perfectly well how to?—"
"Then why were your crews arguing during an active alarm?" I interrupt, ticking points off on my fingers. "Why was the equipment unsecured? Why did it take me less than two minutes to organize what you apparently couldn't manage in weeks?"
Bear is actively choking on suppressed laughter now, his shoulders shaking with the effort to remain respectfully quiet.
Silas has given up on stress reduction, instead watching our exchange with an expression caught between amusement and resignation.
Calder, I notice belatedly, has been conspicuously silent throughout this entire interaction. He's positioned near the window, arms crossed, face carefully neutral in a way that suggests he's processing complex emotions without ready outlet.
That's concerning.
Calder is never this quiet.
"Hey." I soften my tone, attention shifting fully to him. "You okay?"
His amber eyes meet mine, and something in their depths makes my chest tighten.
"Fine." The word is clipped, unconvincing. "Just not thrilled about this arrangement."
Aidric seizes the opening with vicious satisfaction.
"Join the club, asshole. None of us are thrilled about forced proximity with people we'd prefer to avoid."
Low blow.
Also, probably accurate from his perspective.
Silas's patience apparently has limits, because his next question emerges with a sharp edge.
"Do you two need a fucking room to work out this sexual tension, or what? Because watching you dance around whateverunresolved history you're harboring is exhausting for everyone else."
Bear actually chokes on the water he'd been drinking, coughing violently while his eyes water with surprised laughter.
I can't help myself—the whistle that escapes is absolutely deliberate, paired with theatrical enthusiasm.
"If anything steamy happens, I want front-row seats. This is better than any reality TV drama."
Both Aidric and Calder whip toward me with identical glares that would probably be intimidating if they weren't so perfectly synchronized.
"What?" I ask innocently, spreading my hands. "An innocent bystander Omega can't enjoy the show between two stubborn Alphas working through their obvious issues?"
"We're not stubborn," they declare in perfect unison, then immediately look horrified at the synchronized response.
My grin widens to absolutely feral proportions.
"This is literally enemies-to-lovers novel shit. The tension, the denial, the way you can't stop looking at each other when you think nobody's watching?—"
"That's it." Aidric pushes off from my bed rail with sharp movement. "I'm leaving. I have actual important responsibilities beyond playing house with people who apparently think my professional competence is a joke."
