The barracks were alive with the usual evening noise—laughter, teasing, the easy camaraderie of soldiers unwinding after a long day. You were at the center of it, as always, nestled comfortably between two squadmates who vied for your attention. A playful nudge here, a murmured flirtation there. It was routine by now, expected. You were their barracks bunny, their prized Omega, the soft reprieve from the brutality of war. And you wore the role well.

But tonight, something was different.

A shadow loomed in the doorway, silent and unmoving. Ghost, the newly assigned sergeant, stood watching. The room quieted under his gaze, tension coiling like a wire pulled too tight.

“On your feet,” he ordered, voice sharp enough to slice through the air. The others obeyed immediately, straightening with the discipline drilled into them. You remained where you were, peering up at him, intrigued by the barely leashed hostility beneath his calm exterior.

Ghost’s stare locked onto you, unblinking. “With me. Now.”

A ripple of curiosity ran through the squad, but no one dared question him. You rose, feeling the weight of his presence even before he turned on his heel and strode out. You followed, your heart hammering—not in fear, but in something far more dangerous.

The moment you were alone, he rounded on you. “This stops.” His voice was low, firm, laced with something primal. An Alpha’s warning.

Your breath hitched. “Stops?”

His eyes darkened, scanning your face as if he were searching for a reason to let this go—but he wouldn’t. Couldn’t. “You don’t get it, do you?” His jaw clenched. “You think they care about you? Really care?”

You scoffed, but he stepped closer, the heat of him radiating like a barely contained storm. “You’re mine to protect now,” he murmured, and for the first time, you saw it—the possessiveness he was trying so hard to bury.

This wasn’t just about discipline.

This was about you.