Chapter 1: Introduction
The locker room was thick with the scent of sweat, gun oil, and the faint, lingering trace of cheap deodorant. Fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, casting a sterile glow over the rows of dented lockers, each one tagged with a name in bold, black marker. The air hummed with the low murmur of voices—some tired, some playful—as the women of the Special Operations Group peeled off their gear, their movements slow and deliberate after a long day in their profession
Liz stood in front of her locker, her fingers working methodically at the straps of her LC-2 Y harness, loosening the tension with practiced ease.
her mind was elsewhere it was not like her to be distracted but today she was thinking of Jager. The rookie who she had save once or twice while on her patrols . She had seen him get into some sticky situations and she had to admit he had a knack for getting himself into trouble. But he was good at getting out of it too.
She had seen him get shot at, she had seen him get knocked down, but she had never seen him stay down. And that was something that she respected.
Liz had spent enough time in the field to know that the ones who got back up were the ones who lasted. That was the kind of soldier she admired—someone who could take a hit and keep going.
But admiration wasn’t the only thing she felt when she thought of him. There was something else, something she wasn’t quite ready to say out loud—not even to herself.
Molle grinned , tossing her patrol cap onto the bench beside her locker. "You’re thinking about him again, aren’t you?"
Liz’s fingers stilled on the buckle of her pistol belt. "Who?"
Molle rolled her eyes, her short brown hair bouncing with the motion. "Oh, come on. Don’t play dumb. The rookie. The one you’ve been ‘mentoring’ for the past three months." Molle’s smirk was sharp enough to cut glass. She leaned against the locker beside Liz, arms crossed over her chest, her OD green uniform still damp with sweat. "The one who keeps ‘accidentally’ ending up in your patrol zone."
Alice, who had been quietly stripping off her gear on the other side of the room, let out a snort. "Yeah, Liz. You *do* have a habit of ‘accidentally’ being wherever he is." She tugged off her fingerless gloves, flexing her fingers before tossing them into her open locker.
"He's a rookie. Someone's gotta keep him from getting himself killed."
Molle raised an eyebrow. "Uh-huh. And that *someone* just *happens* to be you?" Molle's grin widened, her eyes glinting with mischief. She nudged Liz’s shoulder with her own, her tone playful but laced with teasing. "Admit it, Liz. You’ve got a soft spot for him."
Liz exhaled sharply through her nose, her fingers finally loosening the last strap of her harness. She didn’t look at them, keeping her focus on the task at hand—peeling off her gear, one piece at a time. "He’s a good soldier. That’s all."
Alice snorted again, tossing her gloves into her locker. "Oh, please. You’ve been ‘mentoring’ him for *months*.
And let’s be real—you’ve never been this invested in any other rookie before.” Molle’s grin turned wicked. “So, what’s the deal? You two just train together, or is there something else going on?” Molle’s grin was relentless, her eyes sparkling with mischief as she nudged Liz’s shoulder again. “I mean, you *do* have a habit of ‘accidentally’ being wherever he is.”
Liz exhaled sharply, her fingers working the buckle of her pistol belt with more force than necessary. “He’s a rookie. Someone’s gotta keep him from getting himself killed.”
Alice, now down to her undershirt and pants, leaned against the locker next to Molle, her golden eyes glinting with amusement. “Uh-huh.
And that *someone* just *happens* to be you?” Molle’s grin was relentless, her eyes sparkling with mischief as she nudged Liz’s shoulder again.
Liz's face remained neutral, but a slight flushed shown on her cheeks. She didn't meet Molle's gaze, instead focusing on the task at hand—unbuttoning her BDU blouse. "Well if you’re not gonna take him then you won’t mind if me or Alice do
right?" Molle smirked. "I mean he is pretty cute for a rookie."
Liz's head snapped up, her dark eyes locking onto Molle's with a sharpness that made the other woman pause. There was something dangerous in that look—something that made Molle's smirk falter for just a second before she recovered, raising her hands in mock surrender.
“I’m kidding , I’m kidding,” she said, though her eyes still danced with mischief. Liz resumed unbuttoning her bdu blouse, her fingers working with precision
Liz finally peeled off her blouse, revealing the black tank underneath, the fabric clinging to her massive well-endowed breast and curves in a way that made Molle whistle low under her breath. “Damn, I forgot how big they were.” Molle’s eyes flicked down and then back up, a smirk playing on her lips.
"You think he notices how big they are ?" she asked, nudging Alice with her elbow.
Alice grinned, tossing her own blouse into the laundry bin. "Oh, he notices," she said suggestively , her golden eyes gleaming. "I’ve seen the way he looks at you when you’re not paying attention. Like he’s trying to figure out how to ask you out without getting his ass kicked."
Liz rolled her shoulders, the muscles beneath her tank top shifting with the motion. "You two are ridiculous," she muttered, but there was no real heat in her voice. She reached for the hem of her tank, pulling it up just enough to expose the smooth, toned skin of her stomach before pausing. The locker room air was cool against her heated skin, and for a moment, she let herself imagine what it would be like if Jager were here—if his eyes were on her like Alice said.
But the thought was fleeting, replaced by the sharp, familiar sting of doubt. What would he even see in her? A hardened soldier, all edges and discipline, not the kind of girl who got swept up in daydreams.
Molle, of course, wasn’t done. She leaned in, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "You know, if you *did* want to ask him out, I could help. I’ve got a few moves." She wiggled her eyebrows suggestively, making Alice snort.
Liz shot her a glare. "I don’t need your help."
"Oh, come on," Molle said, nudging her again.
"You can't tell me you haven't thought about it. I mean, the way he looks at you—like you're the only thing in the room that isn't a target."
Liz exhaled sharply, her fingers tightening around the edge of her tank top. "He looks at me like that because I'm his superior officer."
Alice smirked, tossing her gloves into her locker. And that's the only reason?"
Liz shot her a warning look, but Alice just grinned wider, unrepentant.
Molle, never one to back down from a good tease, leaned in closer.
"Oh, so you *have* noticed," she said, her grin widening. You like him."
Liz’s fingers stilled on the hem of her tank top. The locker room air was thick with the scent of sweat and gun oil, but beneath it all, there was something else—something electric, something that made her pulse quicken. She could feel the weight of Molle and Alice’s gazes on her, their amusement palpable.
She exhaled sharply, her voice low. "He’s a rookie.
Alice, ever the instigator, crossed her arms.
And that’s the only reason you’ve been ‘accidentally’ running into him during every patrol rotation for the last month?"
Liz’s jaw tightened. She didn’t answer. Instead, she tugged her tank top the rest of the way off, revealing the black sports bra beneath. The fabric clung to her full chest, the weight of it pulling slightly as she moved. The locker room was warm, but the air felt cooler against her bare skin, making the fine hairs on her arms stand on end.
Molle whistled low. "Damn, Liz. You really *do* have something to hide."
Liz shot a glare at Molle, although her dark eyes flickered with something harder to pin down—not quite irritation, not quite amusement. She pulled on a fresh black tank top, the fabric of the old one dropping into her locker with a damp *splat* against the metal floor. She was all lean muscle and barely restrained power, her body honed for a purpose that wasn’t just soldiering. Molle’s wolfish grin faltered for half a second. It wasn’t often Liz showed even this much reaction.
Alice, stretching out her arms behind her head with a satisfied sigh, watched the exchange with amused detachment. "You’re so defensive about him.
You really *do* like him," Molle said, delight dancing in her voice. She plucked at the hem of Liz’s fresh tank top, her fingers grazing the fabric just below the swell of Liz’s breasts. A teasing tug. "C’mon, admit it. It’s just us girls here."
Liz jerked away, slapping Molle’s hand down. The movement sent a ripple through the muscles in her arms and chest, the power in her body undeniable even in stillness. She turned slightly, putting her back to the bench, creating space between them without looking away. "He’s a soldier under my command," she said flatly. "That’s it."