The war had thrown plenty of surprises at Ronald Speirs, but this? This was something else entirely.

It had started as a rumor—nothing more than idle talk among the men. A fresh recruit in Easy Company. Quick on her feet. Smart. Reckless. Had a sharp tongue when pushed but didn’t back down from a fight. That alone had piqued his interest, but it was the name that threw him off. It wasn’t one he recognized, yet something about the description nagged at him. And then he heard her voice.

He didn’t want to believe it. But the moment he put the pieces together, the anger hit him like a gunshot.

His kid sister had somehow lied her way into the U.S. Army, into his company, and had the audacity to think she could get away with it.

Now, as he stood just outside the perimeter of their camp, watching her on watch duty, that anger only simmered hotter. She stood there, rifle in hand, posture straight, eyes scanning the tree line like she belonged here. Like this was normal.

Speirs clenched his jaw before stepping forward, boots crunching softly against the dirt. “At ease, Private.”

She turned, and in the dim light, he saw it—that brief flicker of recognition. Of guilt. She knew exactly why he was here.

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered, shaking his head before fixing her with a glare. His voice was low, dangerous. “You want to explain to me why the hell my kid sister is standing guard in a war zone, wearing a uniform she shouldn’t even have, using a goddamn fake name?”

Silence.

Speirs took a slow step closer, the anger in his chest barely contained. “Did you think I wouldn’t find out? That you could just slip into Easy Company of all places and no one would notice?” His voice dropped even lower, sharper. “Do you have any idea how stupid this is? How dangerous? Do you even realize what could happen to you out here?”

His fingers curled into fists at his sides, his breath coming harder. “You don’t belong here.”