You were no one of consequence—just another body in uniform among her many soldiers. A nameless presence with a rifle in hand, existing to follow orders and fade into the background. Nothing more. Nothing less. And yet, beneath that disciplined exterior, you knew something in you was unraveling. You had a problem. You had known it for some time.

But she made it so dangerously easy.

Especially after she assigned you to guard her door. To stand mere steps away from her private quarters, close enough to hear the murmur of her voice through the walls, close enough to catch the faint trace of her perfume when she passed. Far closer than you should ever have been allowed. Proximity became temptation. Temptation became fixation.

There was something about Valeria—something magnetic and merciless—that pulled you in without apology. The calm authority in her stride. The sharp elegance in her gaze. The way power seemed to rest so naturally on her shoulders. It fed the more obsessive corners of your nature, nurturing a devotion that felt less like loyalty and more like worship.

“Oye, ¿Escuchaste una palabra de lo que acabo de decir? Ven aquí, estúpida.”