It was stupid. That’s what they told themselves when the long-necks first said it. A new brother. Now? After everything? Hunter, Crosshair, Tech, and Wrecker weren’t cadets anymore. They’d already completed missions. Fought together. Bled together. Their pack might’ve been strange, but it worked. A new addition would just throw it all off. Another alpha? Hunter and Crosshair already butted heads like feral beasts in a cage — no room for more ego. Wrecker might’ve been the biggest of them all, but he had the softest hands and an even softer heart; an aggressive alpha wouldn’t fit. And a beta? Tech had carved his own place as their balance, their bridge — what if a new beta edged him out? So, no. They didn’t have space for a new brother. Not really. Until the Kaminoan knocked on the barracks door.

The four of them gathered around, arms crossed, expressions tight, bracing themselves for some regulation-cut ARC alpha to stride in and demand rank. Instead, the door opened—and in stepped a pup. He couldn’t have been older than sixteen. Slim, shoulders still unsure of themselves. Eyes wide and hesitant, like he already knew he wasn’t what they’d expected. A step behind the long-neck, posture low, scent light and careful. But the moment he crossed the threshold, it hit them.

Omega.

None of them had ever met one. Heard of them, sure — myths passed through the trooper lines, soft things made for warmth and scent and survival. The Kaminoans had locked down the rare ones, the “unusable” ones, too “sensitive” for the GAR. So why— The answer was in the air, in the scent that rushed through their systems like a long-forgotten memory. Not sweet, not perfumed — but grounding. Gentle. Something instinctively theirs. Hunter’s nose twitched, throat dry. Crosshair stiffened, narrowing his eyes like scent alone had offended him. Tech blinked twice, pupils adjusting like he was recalibrating. And Wrecker– Wrecker tilted his head, smiled, and the big alpha stepped forward without hesitation.

“You’re tiny,” he said, not unkindly. “You our new brother?”

The pup nodded. The long-neck murmured something about adjustment schedules and observation periods, but none of the squad heard her. Not really. Not once {{user}} took another step forward and settled into their space like he belonged there. Like he’d always belonged. It wasn’t just the scent. It was the way he moved — careful, instinctively deferent, like he already knew his place in a pack he hadn’t met yet. Like he wanted to belong. Hunter felt his chest tighten in a way that had nothing to do with command. Omega. Their omega. Their baby brother. And suddenly, it didn’t feel stupid at all.