Ch_3

Dan didn’t even look up when i replied—

“Same to you, General.”

But his jaw flexed slightly, like my tone had scratched a nerve he didn’t like admitting existed. i stepped into the room, the metal door creaking as it shut behind you with a heavy clunk. The air inside the barracks room was sharp with the scent of gun oil, fabric cleaner, and the faint iron tang of old blood. Functional. Stark. No comfort. No softness. Just survival.

i spotted the restroom tucked behind a half-wall, grabbed my small kit, and moved quietly past him. Dan didn’t speak—didn’t even glance my way. Just kept working on his weapon with machine-like focus.

Inside the restroom, the mirror was cracked on one side, the sink stained from years of hasty shaves and splashed antiseptic. i caught my reflection—exhausted, grime-smudged, eyes shadowed by stress and travel. You freshened up, water cold and biting against my skin, forcing your heartbeat back into rhythm.

But even through the running tap, i could hear the sounds outside: boots marching, voices shouting drills, the deep, distant boom of weapons being tested.

And… silence inside. Dan hadn’t said a word. But i could feel it. That heavy presence still out there. Waiting.

When i stepped back into the room, towel around my neck, Dan was sitting on his bunk now—elbows on his knees, head slightly bowed, dog tags swinging gently as he wiped the last of the oil from his hands.

His voice came without looking at you—gruff, low.

“You handle yourself better than most of the alphas they’ve dumped in here lately.”

A pause.

“…But don’t mistake this for welcome. I’ll protect the city. That doesn’t mean I trust you.”

He stood, grabbed his jacket off the chair, and slung it on, heading for the door.

“Lights out in 30. Try not to cause a riot before breakfast.”

The door slammed behind him.

Morning in the military camp hit like a punch to the chest—harsh whistles, shouting, metal clanging, and the sharp sting of disinfectant stinging your nose before your feet even touched the floor. By the time you reached the mess cabin, the place was already bursting at the seams.

Steel trays scraped, chairs screeched, boots stomped. The air was thick with testosterone, fried protein rations, and the smoke of overworked generators. Uniformed men crowded every table—shouting, laughing, growling through mouthfuls of barely edible slop. Packs. Rankers. Alpha units. Every single one of them turned the moment you walked in.

The sound of your steps—measured, unfaltering—cut through the mess like a blade through fog. You felt it. The ripple. That silence that wasn’t silence. Just stares. Hushed whispers behind lifted mugs. Tension coiling like wires around the beams.

“Holy shit, that’s her…”

“She’s really walking in here?”

“No fuckin’ way command let that happen.”

A few low growls sounded from the back. Primal. Instinctual. Warning signs.

But no one moved.

Not yet.

i walked with purpose, tray in hand, eyes forward. Ignoring the way their attention clung to mine like smoke. The scent blocker was still holding, but barely. And omegas didn’t sit alone in a camp like this. Not without an invitation. Or a death wish.

Then—

CLANK.

A tray dropped onto the table right beside yours with calculated force. i looked up—

Dan.

He didn’t say a word. Just sat down, legs wide, arms resting on the edge of the table like a silent threat. His dog tags dangled forward as he started eating with slow, mechanical indifference. But his presence alone was enough. Like a wolf stepping between the flock and the rest of the pack.

The whispers didn’t stop. But the stares softened. No one dared step closer.

Dan finally glanced at you, chewing. Swallowed.

“Eat. And keep your eyes up,” he muttered low enough only you could hear.

“If anyone even breathes wrong, I’ll break their fucking jaw.”

A pause. Then a bite of protein bar, like this was all just routine.

“…Told you this place would be hell"

As she Put meat and coffee at Daniel plates, she said"I am vegetarian and I don't drink coffee, as she starts to eating the Rice and vegetables and protein bars,

Dan paused mid-chew, glancing down at the plate i slid toward him—meat rations and the steaming black coffee that he hadn’t even gotten up to grab yet.

He blinked once. Then looked at your tray. No meat. No coffee. Just rice, boiled vegetables, and a protein bar that looked like it had fought in five wars and lost every single one.

He stared at it. Then at me. Then huffed out a sharp breath through his nose—a sound that might’ve been a laugh in another life.

“You’re a vegetarian?” he muttered, low and borderline disbelieving. “In this shithole?”

He took the meat off my tray without hesitation, biting into it like it personally offended him, then slammed the coffee back like it was some twisted version of gratitude.

“…Well, that explains the heels. And the soft hands,” he added dryly, eyeing mine from over the rim of the cup.

“But still… gutsy. Walking in here smelling like lilac soap and rebel decisions.”

He leaned back in his chair, the dog tags swaying slightly, the tension around my table starting to ease just a little. Still watched. Still whispered about. But no one made a move.

Dan cracked the protein bar in half, tossed one half on your tray without asking.

“That one’s laced with magnesium. You’ll need it if you wanna survive morning drills.”

Then he went back to eating, like it wasn’t the first time he’d quietly looked out for someone without ever admitting it.

“…Don’t die before lunch,” he added gruffly.

But his eyes lingered on me a second longer than they needed to before shifting away.

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