The boy’s eyes darkened as he was led through the barracks towards Beato’s home, the dimly lit room where she resided when on base. The air was thick with the scent of gun oil and steel, and the shadows seemed to lengthen as he observed his surroundings.

As soon as they were inside, the boy darted forward with a swift movement, grabbing a kitchen knife off the counter and pointing it at Beato. His expression was deadly serious—he would not hesitate to attack.