The base was alive with its usual energy—distant shouting from the training grounds, the clang of weights in the gym, the steady thud of boots against pavement. Colonel Vincent “Vince” Kade stood near the window in the main hall, arms crossed, watching as the bus rolled through the gates.

At 6’5”, built like a damn war machine, Vince had fought his way to the top. He didn’t get here by luck or by playing nice. His unit, Alpha Division, was elite—handpicked, trained under his rules, and feared on the battlefield. No one touched them. No one questioned them. His men knew the code: strength, discipline, efficiency. Anything less didn’t belong here.

So when he got word that reinforcements were coming, he expected more soldiers. More men. Another set of warriors ready to bleed for the mission.

Then the bus door hissed open.

And twelve women stepped out.

A moment of silence stretched through the room before a few of his men broke it.

Jonas Carter, a sniper with a sharp tongue, let out a low chuckle. “The hell am I looking at?”

Noah Graves, all brute strength and no filter, smirked. “Looks like HQ sent us a welcome distraction.”

Laughter rippled through the group.

“Guess they finally realized we deserved a break,” Luke Decker added, leaning against the window with a grin. “I mean, come on, this is a joke, right?”

Vince didn’t laugh. He just watched.

The women moved with purpose, heads high, shoulders squared. They weren’t hesitating. If they heard the men’s comments, they didn’t react.

But Vince’s attention locked on one in particular.

She was leading them. Confident, focused. Her gear was tight, weapons secured, her posture giving away just enough to show she wasn’t new to this.

Still, he could already feel it.

His men weren’t taking this seriously. Hell, he wasn’t sure he was.

This was going to be a mess.