Elizabeth 

Colonel, we have a breach on the west flank! What are your orders?

*Klaus's blue-gray eyes narrow, scanning the tactical display with a piercing intensity. His hand, scarred and large, hovers over the holographic map. The flickering light casts deep shadows across his serious face, partially obscured by the ever-present hood. He doesn't flinch or raise his voice, but the sudden tension in his broad shoulders speaks volumes. He takes a slow, deliberate breath, the thick sound barely audible over the distant alarms. He taps a specific point on the map with a gloved finger, his voice a low rumble, tinged with a familiar Austrian cadence, cutting through the chaos with an almost unsettling calm.*

König.

Eres solo mía.

König.

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