The Sub-Military camp was nothing like the life Paige Anthony knew. Gone were the neon lights, the music, the easy laughter of city nights. Here, the mornings started before dawn, with the shrill of whistles and the crack of boots against gravel. Uniforms clung too tight, drills stripped the skin raw, and the smell of sweat and iron lingered in every corner.

Paige hated it.

And yet, she refused to quit.

“Joe's out there. Keep moving.” She chanted to herself as her lungs burned, legs pumping against gravel that seemed endless.

By the third lap of the morning run, her chest felt like it was lined with knives. Her hair, tied back in a rough knot, stuck to her face. Sweat poured down her temples. All around her, recruits stumble, gasp, or curse under their breath. They were a ragtag mix---too young, too soft, or too cocky to know what they had signed up for.

Paige knew she blended right in.

Someone beside her stumbled and nearly went down, and she almost followed, but a steady hand caught her elbow and pushed her forward again. She glanced sideways and saw a girl with cropped brown hair, steady hazel eyes, and the kind of quiet strength Paige had only ever seen in Joe.

“Don't stop,” the girl muttered. Her voice was calm, even as her own chest rose and fell with exertion. “First day's hell. The second day is worse.”

Paige managed a breathless laugh. “Comforting.”

The girl's mouth curved just slightly. “Name's Sara.”

“Paige.”

“Keep moving, Paige.”

They pushed through the run together, and somehow it felt a little easier with Sara keeping pace beside her.

When the whistle finally shrieked, signaling the end, Paige doubled over with her hands on her knees. Her lungs clawed for air. She hated herself for being glad when Sara passed her a flask of water without a word. Paige accepted it, gulping greatly before handing it back.

“Thanks,” She muttered.

“Don't thank me yet,” Sara said, eyes flicking towards the training field. “That was just the warm-up.”

The real drills began.

Push-ups until arms shook, planks until ribs ached, and combat stances that left things quivering like jelly. The instructors barked orders without mercy, shoving knees into place or yanking shoulders back into line. Paige tried to focus, tried to mimic the others, but her body screamed with every move.

Halfway through a rifle drill, she tripped, face-first into the dirt.

“Get up!” Troy roared.

Paige spat grit from her mouth, ready to curse, but before she could push herself up, Sara's hand appeared in her line of vision. Strong. Steady. Quiet. Paige took it, pulled to her feet, and found Sara watching her with that same unreadable calm.

Something about it stung. Pity, Paige thought. Or maybe protection. She hated needing either.

Still she whispered, “Thanks again.”

Sara gave no answer, just a curt nod, as if it wasn't kindness but instinct.

As the whistle screeched again, Derick walked to the training field, his legs immediately coming to an abrupt stop. He took in a deep swift of air and froze. That scent again: Pine, with a mixture of warm vanilla. It hit him in the chestchest, sharp and soft at once, and every instinct screamed at him to get the owner.

Paige looked up as Derick stood before them like a shadow carved from stone. Six foot six, broad-shouldered, eyes the color of storm clouds. His presence pressed against her skin, heavy and sharp, like the world itself bent to his will.

Derick Wofeblood.

She didn't know his name yet, but she felt it. Like a pull low in her chest, a whisper in her blood. Something deep, primal, terrifying, intimate.

Her breath hitched. What the hell was that?

Derick's gaze swept the line of recruits, cold and merciless. When his eyes landed on her, something inside him snapped taut. His chest constructed, his wolf surged, and for the first time in years, his control slipped.

Mate!

He masked it instantly, jaw locking, fist curling behind his back. Of all the recruits, of all the fragile, reckless humans; LUNA had to have given him her. His mate.

He wanted to tear the bond out of chest, to reject the pull clawing through him. But his wolf howled, fierce and certain: she is ours.

Derick clenched his teeth, forcing his expression to stay carved from ice. He could not let it show. Not now. Not ever.

So he did the only thing he knew how. He made her hate him.

“You,” he barked, pointing directly at Paige.

She stiffened. “Me?”

“Step forward.” His tone was sharp as a blade.

Paige's stomach twisted. She had felt his gaze burn into her all morning, like he was dissecting her every move. Now, standing before him, she caught the faintest trace of his scent; smoke and pine, clean and dangerous. It unsettled her, made her chest tighter in a way she didn't understand.

“Your form is sloppy,” Derick said, circling her like a predator. “Your stance is weak. You run like you've never worked a day in your life.”

Her pride flared, hot and furious. “Maybe you're forgetting it's my first day in this stupid camp.”

Gasps rippled through the recruits. No one talked back to Wofeblood.

Derick's lips twitched, the faintest shadow of a smile he crushed instantly. His mate was not a pushover. Her fire was infuriating. Irresistible. Dangerous.

He stepped closer, so close she could feel the heat radiating off him. He ignored the erotic images his wolf flashed in his head. “If you think this is a game, you'll be the first to die. Out there, weakness gets people killed. Is that what you want? To get your fellow soldiers buried because you were too busy making up excuses?”

The world's stung, sharp and cruel, but beneath them, Paige caught something else. Not just anger. Fear.

“Answer me, pup!”

Paige lifted her chin, meeting his storm-gray eyes head on. “I'm not weak. And I don't quit. So you'll just have to deal with me, officer.”

The air between them snapped, charged, a tension so thick even the recruits shifted uneasily.

Derick wanted to claim her, to push her away, to pin her beneath him and ravish the audacity out of her, swallow that sweet scent and every cry of pleasure that will come out of that smart mouth. Instead, he barked an order. “Drop and give me fifty.”

Paige groaned. “Seriously?”

“Now! pup!”

She dropped to the dirt, muscles burning, but her glare never left him. And for the first time in years, Derick felt something he had forgotten. Heat.

Dangerous. Consuming. Inevitable.

His mate.

Later, when the recruits collapsed in the mess hall, Paige sat with her tray untouched, too sore to eat. Sara slid onto the bench beside her, bumping her shoulder lightly.

“You survived the first day,” She said.

“Barely,” Paige muttered. “Does it always feel like your bones are on fire? Why do I bother to ask, you don't look affected.” She groaned

Sara chuckled. “Yes. Tomorrow will be worse.”

Paige groaned. “Great.”

But despite her words, a stubborn spark lit in her chest. She wasn't quitting. Not now. Not ever.

That night, in the quiet of the barracks, Derick's voice rumbled in a private mind-link with Troy his BETA, and Sara his GAMMA.

“They're weak,” he told Troy. “Most won't last the week.”

“You said that last time,” Troy's amused voice answered. “And yet, some survived.”

Sara's voice cut in, steadier than both. “Not all of them are weak.”

Derick bristled. “You're too soft on humans.”

“And you're too hard on them,” Sara replied without hesitation. “They're not wolves, Derick. They don't heal like we do. But they can learn. Give them time.”

“Especially the loud one you defended today?” Troy teased. “The one who mouthed Derick off?”

Sara laughed so loud it made Derick groan. “What was that by the way? The tension between you two was so tick, you could cut it with a knife.”

“That's true,” Troy concord. “At a point I thought you wanted to kiss the girl.”

Derick was quiet, if only they knew the battle he was fighting with his wolf at that moment. After meeting ones mate, it becomes a primal need to claim and mark them. For an Alpha, that need was more intense.

Derick's wolf snarled at the thought. “Let's not forget what we are here for.”

Sara only answered softly, “yes Alpha.”

Paige curled on her bunk, staring at the ceiling through the ache in her muscles. Every inch of her body screamed, but her heart whispered one thing: Joe.

Across the room, Sara lay awake, watching the new recruit with quiet instinct. She didn't know why she felt so drawn to this girl, why every bone in her body told her Paige mattered.

But she would protect her.

Even if she never knew why.