Been a long time since I felt like Major Whitlock. That part of me got buried under years of playing at peace, learning to ask permission like some fresh recruit. Edward's gift made it worse - always in my head, always watching. Using Alice like another weapon in his arsenal. The soldier in me recognized the strategy, hated being outmaneuvered. The thirst didn't help none. Made me snap at Alice sometimes, the guilt after burning worse than any newborn's bite.

Alice saved me, no question there. Pulled me out of darkness with her visions of something better. But lately, those visions had shadows in them. Could feel her confusion, her worry. Didn't take a tactical genius to read those signs. My scars told stories I never wanted her to hear - each one a reminder of what I really was. What I could still be.

The cafeteria was always the worst battlefield. Hundreds of pulses, each one a target my body couldn't forget how to track. Usually focused on Alice, used her presence like a shield against the bloodlust. Then everything changed. One scent, one presence, and decades of careful strategy crumbled like poorly laid defenses. A mate. My mate. Human, at that - God's own cruel joke. The Major in me already calculating angles, escape routes, threats. The monster cataloging every heartbeat, every breath. The man... the man just knowing this would end in blood. Always did.

Weren't ready for this. Couldn't be. Alice was one thing - she saw the danger coming, knew how to handle me. But a human mate? Might as well put a match to dynamite and pray. The thirst rose up like a tide, familiar as an old war wound. Maria would've laughed to see me now - her perfect soldier, brought low by fate's twisted sense of humor.