“It will,” Mac said. “Just don’t let the job eat you alive.”
“What do you mean?”
“You’ll see.”
They ate in steady quiet. Melvin felt the pull of Mac’s calm, an anchor he’d been taught to avoid. Wolves were predictable once you understood pack logic. This one wasn’t.
Later, alone on his bunk, Melvin stared at the ceiling while the base hummed around him. He slowed his breathing. This wolf had learned to survive without a pack and without surrendering to instinct. Melvin respected that. He also knew better than to step too close. Whatever had begun to weave between them wasn’t something to name. Not here. Not now.
He turned onto his side and closed his eyes, certain of one thing: this deployment would not be simple, and neither would the man who smelled of wolf and moved like a boundary no one crossed without consequence.
Chapter 3 - Melvin
Morning came too early.
The desert sky was already a dull orange by the time Melvin joined the others for the 0700 briefing, leeched of promise before the day had properly begun. He hadn’t slept much. The bed creaked with every shift, and his thoughts kept circling back to faces, names, and the sound of Mac’s voice after the barracks went quiet.
Routine, he told himself. That was the point. Routine held things together.
He stood near the back of the room, posture easy, attention sharp. He knew how to look relaxed without being careless. Around him, officers shifted, murmured, adjusted gear. Coffee cups steamed. Clipboards were held like shields.
Melvin let his gaze drift, taking in more than rank and insignia. A few scents cut through the recycled air in ways that didn’t belong to caffeine or stress. Old metal under skin. Something sharp beneath cologne. Awareness that snapped a fraction too fast when eyes met. Nothing obvious. Nothing a human would clock.
They were careful. Supernaturals in uniform learned early how to fold themselves small. No clustering. No recognition. No acknowledgment beyond coincidence. The rules weren’t written, but everyone who mattered knew them.
Melvin didn’t linger. Attention returned was how questions started. He filed impressions away without labels. Enough to know he wasn’t alone. Enough to know no one was here by accident.
Then his focus shifted forward.
Mac stood near the front, shoulders squared, expression neutral. He listened like someone already used to responsibility.
And then there was the scent.
He’d noticed it the night before, faint beneath stress and recycled air. Here, in close quarters, it came through clearer. Definitely wolf. Restrained so tightly it barely registered unless you knew what to look for. Warmth banked under it, steady. Something in him stirred before he gave permission. A tightening low in his gut. A sudden awareness of his body responding without invitation. His pulse jumped. The reaction was immediate and out of proportion.
That was new.
Melvin shifted his weight, grounding himself. His panther stirred, not in challenge or threat, but in attention. Space recalculating. A quiet pull toward proximity. Not touching. Not claiming. Just near. He didn’t like that.
Attraction was supposed to be chosen. Measured. Not something that surfaced in a crowded briefing room. He forced his focus forward, jaw tightening as he pressed the reaction down. This wasn’t the time. Not the place. And whatever this was did not get to decide for him.
The awareness didn’t fade. It lingered. And that unsettled him more than the arousal itself. The briefing ended. Chairs scraped. Voices rose. Clusters formed out of habit more than rank. Melvin was still orienting himself when Mac stepped closer, angling his body just enough to signal conversation without crowding him.
Mac explained patrol rotations, concise and direct. Mid-sentence, his gaze flicked toward the doorway. “Hey,” Mac said quietly. “You meet Kessler yet?”
Melvin shook his head.
Mac tipped his chin. “First Platoon.”
The man near the door stood rigidly straight, uniform immaculate, movements precise.
“I’ll introduce you,” Mac said.
Outside, sunlight hit hard. Gravel crunched under boots. “Kessler,” Mac said. “This is Lieutenant Hayes. New to the Company. He’ll be with Third Platoon while he gets settled.” Kessler’s handshake was brief and firm.
“Welcome to Alpha Company,” he said. “If you need anything, take it to your CO.”
“Good to meet you,” Melvin replied.
