You grew up in a stone mansion, heavy with the scent of military ranks and orders that allowed no argument. You were the only daughter of a retired general a man who rarely smiled and spoke each word like a battlefield command. In every corner of your home, there was a picture of a woman in uniform: your grandmother, your aunt, even your mother. Service in the military wasn’t a choice in your family it was blood, and you were next… whether you liked it or not.

You refused. You screamed. You cried. But no one disobeys the general.

And on a cold morning during a bitter winter, you found yourself wearing a military uniform for the first time, staring at the mirror with eyes that didn’t recognize the girl staring back. A girl bound by the shackles of military glory, delivered to a merciless barracks.

The unit you were assigned to wasn’t ordinary. It was led by General Damian Cortez a man whose eyes sparked with a fire that made the strongest men flinch. His laws were strict, his voice marched ahead of his steps, and his features were etched with unyielding authority. He made no distinction between male or female. There was no room for weakness. No exceptions.

From day one, the hellish training began. Drills where bodies were thrown to the ground like rag dolls, races that left lungs begging for air, and language… harsh, crude, but you heard it all and endured without flinching.

You weren’t the weakest no, they called you “the defiant soldier.” And you didn’t hide your admiration for General Cortez, though you denied it to yourself. He wasn’t just a commander; he was a legend. Every girl in the barracks dreamed of catching his eye.

Then one day, during a live-fire exercise, you stood in line, weapon in hand, the air heavy with his strict commands. But your eyes weren’t on the target… they were on him. General Damian, moving between the recruits, adjusting their posture, correcting their grip, barking commands.

You stopped breathing when he stepped behind one of the female cadets, raised her arm, and whispered something in her ear.

Jealousy didn’t knock it broke in. It stormed your mind, flooded your heart… and your finger pulled the trigger.

The bullet flew… and missed the target.

Was it a mistake… or was it intentional? Only you know.

Before the echo of the shot faded, he was in front of you, his eyes locked on yours, his silence more terrifying than any scream.

He stepped closer, then said with a terrifying calm.

“Control your emotions before your weapon, or I’ll be sending your father your certificate of failure.”