Shannon stood and nodded. “Yeah.”
“Mia Lopez.” The girl stepped inside without hesitation and tossed her bag onto the bed near the window. She wore her uniform like someone who understood structure. She was nothing flashy, just clean and squared away. Her braid was neat, and her skin was still red from the morning PT block. “Sorry I wasn’t in earlier,” she added. “Supply processing was a mess.”
Shannon offered a hand. Mia shook it once, firm grip. “I took the window bed,” she said. “Hope that’s okay.”
“I prefer the wall.”
Mia smiled. “Perfect.”
There was a beat of quiet as Mia began unpacking. Her wall locker was already half organized by the time Shannon finished tying her boots.
“You’re legacy, right?” Mia asked without looking up.
“Technically.”
“Air Force?”
Shannon nodded. “Both parents. My mom flew Black Hawks. Intel.”
There was a pause. “Still in?”
Shannon didn’t blink. “No.”
Mia looked over. “Sorry.”
Shannon didn’t answer. She was used to people not knowing how to ask. She didn’t mind when they stopped trying.
Later that morning,PT rotations swept across the lower field in staggered squads. The sun was high already, baking heat into the grass and the backs of every cadet. Movement slowed, sweat streaked necks and forearms, and everyone counted silently in their heads, waiting for the next set to end.
Shannon dropped to the turf for push-ups, arms trembling, shoulder blades tight. Her elbows scraped the fabric of her sleeves. No one was talking.
At the far edge of the field, TSgt Olivo stood still, arms folded across his chest. He didn’t hold a clipboard. He didn’t shout or pace like the other cadre. People moved better when he was watching.
His sunglasses made it impossible to tell where his focus landed, but Shannon could feel it shift through the crowd.The moment his attention passed over her, her back locked straighter, her hands steadied. It was instinctual.
He didn’t project aggression. It was something else. Something colder. Controlled, but not cruel, only deliberate. She didn’t know much about him. Only that his presence quieted rooms.
As she rolled up from a sit-up set, her gaze caught on the far corner of the hydration station, and there he was—the cadet from the hallway.
Thinner than she remembered. He stood near the edge of his squad, head down, bottle clutched in both hands. He kept shifting his weight from foot to foot like he wasn’t sure he was allowed to be still.
Mia sidled up beside her. “Him?” she asked under her breath.
“Yeah. Name?”
“Fielder. Ezra. I think he’s in Kilo.”
Kilo. Second rotation.
“Quiet,” Mia added. “Good endurance scores. Always looks like he’s waiting to get hit with something.”
Ezra glanced up suddenly and caught Shannon’s gaze. He looked away instantly.
A few strides behind him, Olivo walked the perimeter, passing by without stopping, his expression unreadable. But for the briefest second, his head tilted in Fielder’s direction. A flicker. Nothing more. Then he moved on.
That night,exhaustion settled over the dorm like fog. Mia was already half asleep, her breathing slow and even.
Shannon lay on her back, staring at the ceiling, the notebook still tucked under her mattress. She didn’t take it out tonight. She didn’t need to write anything. She already knew the shape of the thought.
