“You’re a woman.” Four words from Commander Kendrick Lumen, and Annayia’s entire world came crashing down. She’d infiltrated an all-male military camp disguised as a man to find her missing brother — but the cold, terrifying commander had seen through her from day one. Now he was sitting across from her, arms crossed, deciding whether to destroy her life. Then he said something she never expected: “I’ll help you.” And when she finally escaped into the night, she found a shocking surprise waiting in the back seat.
“You’re a woman.” Four words from Commander Kendrick Lumen, and Annayia’s entire world came crashing down. She’d infiltrated an all-male military camp disguised as a man to find her missing brother — but the cold, terrifying commander had seen through her from day one. Now he was sitting across from her, arms crossed, deciding whether to destroy her life. Then he said something she never expected: “I’ll help you.” And when she finally escaped into the night, she found a shocking surprise waiting in the back seat.
Four words. Four simple words. And her entire world came crashing down around her.
“You’re a woman.”
Annayia sat frozen on Commander Lumen’s bed, her head pounding from the hangover, her throat dry, her heart hammering so hard she could feel it in her temples.
He knew. He knew, and she was done. Finished. Her medical career. Her freedom. Her chance to find Daniel. All of it gone because she couldn’t handle a few drinks at a stupid bonfire.
Commander Lumen sat in the chair across from her, arms crossed, legs spread wide — taking up space like he owned the entire world, which in this room he basically did. His uniform was still immaculate despite the late hour. His jaw was set like granite. And his eyes — those dark, piercing eyes — watched her with the intensity of a predator who had cornered its prey and was now deciding how slowly to devour it.
“I asked you a question,” he said, his voice dangerously soft. “What are you doing in my camp?”
Annayia’s mouth opened. Closed. Opened again. Her brain, still foggy from alcohol, scrambled desperately for something — anything — that might save her.
“I— I can explain.”
“Then explain.”
“It’s not what you think.”
“You’re a woman.” He leaned forward, and she instinctively pressed back against the headboard. “Disguised as a man. Using forged documents to infiltrate a military training facility. That’s federal crimes — plural. So I’d suggest you start talking before I decide to make this official.”
His voice was ice. His eyes were colder. And Annayia realized with horrible clarity that she had absolutely no way out of this.
The silence stretched between them like a blade.
“Think,” she commanded herself. “Say something. Anything.”
“I have a medical condition,” she tried weakly.
One dark eyebrow rose. “A medical condition that makes you grow breasts?”
“It’s rare. Very rare.”
“Try again.”
“Hormone imbalance?”
“Strike two.”
“I’m actually a very feminine man.”
“You literally just admitted you’re a woman. Three strikes, you’re out.”
Annayia’s shoulders slumped. “Okay,” she said quietly. “Okay, fine. You win.”
“I always win.” He said it without arrogance — just fact. Like the sky was blue and water was wet and Commander Kendrick Lumen always won. “Now — the truth. All of it.”
And so, with nothing left to lose, Annayia told him everything.
She told him about Daniel — about her gentle, stargazing brother who saw the world differently than everyone else. About parents who treated him like a burden. About the phone call that changed everything. She told him about the weeks of planning, the forged documents. She told him about driving six hours to the camp gates, being turned away, and deciding that if they wouldn’t let her in through the front door, she’d find another way.
“I had to find him,” she finished, her voice cracking. “I had to make sure he was okay. He’s my brother. He’s the only person in my family who ever…”
She trailed off, unable to finish.
Lumen watched her throughout the entire confession without interrupting once. His expression remained unreadable — that perfect mask of cold assessment that gave nothing away.
When she finished, the silence stretched and stretched and stretched some more.
“Well?” Annayia finally demanded, unable to take it anymore. “Aren’t you going to say something? Yell at me? Call the MPs? Throw me in military prison?”
Lumen tilted his head slightly. “Is that what you’re expecting?”
“I don’t know what I’m expecting. You’re impossible to read. Your face is like a brick wall. A very attractive brick wall. But still—”
She snapped her mouth shut. Did she just call him attractive to his face? While he was deciding whether to destroy her life? The hangover was clearly still affecting her brain.
Something flickered in Lumen’s expression. Was that amusement?
“Attractive brick wall?” he repeated slowly.
“I didn’t say that.”
“You definitely said that.”
“I’m still drunk.”
“You’re not.”
“I have amnesia.”
“Convenient.”
He stood from his chair, and Annayia’s heart rate spiked as he moved toward his desk. His movements were fluid, controlled — the kind of precision that came from years of training. Every step deliberate. Every gesture efficient.
He picked up a tablet and typed something.
“Daniel Preston,” he murmured, reading. “Recruited through the Seattle Initiative. Scheduled for transport on the 15th.”
He scrolled. Frowned. Scrolled again.
Annayia held her breath. “What?” she asked. “What is it?”
Lumen looked up at her. And for the first time since she’d met him, he seemed genuinely confused.
“There’s no Daniel Preston in this camp.”
The words didn’t compute at first. Annayia stared at him, certain she’d misheard.
“What do you mean there’s no Daniel Preston?”
“I mean exactly what I said.” Lumen turned the tablet toward her, showing the recruit database. “Every person who’s ever processed through Blackstone is in this system. Every arrival. Every transfer. Every discharge. Your brother’s name doesn’t appear anywhere.”
“That’s impossible.” She scrambled off the bed, ignoring her pounding head, and grabbed the tablet from his hands. Her fingers flew across the screen, searching.
Preston. P-R-E-S-T-O-N. Nothing.
Daniel. D-A-N-I-E-L. 23 results. None of them her brother.
“No,” she whispered. “No, this doesn’t make sense. He was recruited. My parents signed the papers. He left three weeks ago.”
“Then he didn’t come here.”
“But the paperwork said Blackstone. The recruitment officer said Blackstone. Where else would he—”
“Did you actually see him get on the transport?” Lumen’s voice was sharp now. Clinical. “Did you watch him arrive?”
She hadn’t. She’d been at the hospital during her shift when Daniel left. She’d found out hours later through a text from her mother that said “Daniel’s on his way! So exciting!” with three balloon emojis.
She’d never actually confirmed anything.
The realization hit her like a truck. “Oh God.”
The tablet slipped from her fingers. Lumen caught it before it hit the ground — reflexes like a cat.
“He’s not here,” Annayia said, her voice sounding distant. “He was never here. I infiltrated a military camp. Destroyed my entire career. Risked federal prison. And he’s not even here.”
Her knees went weak. Lumen’s hand caught her elbow before she could collapse, steadying her with surprising gentleness.
“Breathe,” he said.
“I can’t breathe. I’m having a crisis. Multiple crises. A crisis buffet.”
“You’re spiraling.”
“I’m allowed to spiral.”
“No, you’re not.” His grip on her elbow tightened slightly. “Panic is useless. Information is useful. So stop panicking and start thinking.”
Easy for him to say. He wasn’t the one whose entire world had just imploded. But he was right. She knew he was right. Breaking down wouldn’t help Daniel.
She forced herself to breathe — in through the nose, out through the mouth, the way she taught patients in the ER when they were on the verge of shock.
“Okay,” she said finally. “Okay. So Daniel never arrived at camp. Which means either he never got on the transport, or the transport took him somewhere else.”
“Correct.”
“Which means I need to find out which one. Track down the transport records. Talk to the driver. Figure out what happened.”
“Also correct.”
She looked up at Lumen, her mind already racing with plans. “I need to leave now. Tonight. I need to—”
“You need to stop and think.”
“I don’t have time to think. My brother is missing.”
“Your brother has been missing for three weeks.” His voice was calm but firm. “A few more days won’t change anything. But rushing out of here without a plan will destroy any chance you have of finding him.”
“What do you mean?”
He released her elbow and stepped back — putting professional distance between them.
“You infiltrated a military facility under false identity. If you leave now — just walk out those gates — you’ll be flagged as a deserter. Military police will track you down within days. And when they catch you, they won’t find Gavin Fields. They’ll find Annayia Preston — a woman who committed multiple federal crimes.”
Annayia’s stomach dropped.
“You’ll be arrested,” he continued. “Tried. Convicted. Your medical license will be revoked. Your future will be over. And while you’re sitting in a federal prison cell, your brother will still be missing.”
Each word landed like a hammer blow.
“So what am I supposed to do?” Her voice cracked with frustration. “Stay here forever? Keep pretending? I need to find Daniel. I need—”
“You need help.”
She went still.
Lumen’s eyes met hers, and something shifted in his expression. The ice thawed just slightly — enough to reveal something almost human underneath.
“You need someone with authority to help you leave cleanly,” he said. “Someone who can handle the paperwork. Create a cover story. Make sure no one comes looking for Gavin Fields.”
“And you’re offering to be that someone?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
The question hung between them. For a long moment, he didn’t answer. His jaw worked slightly, like he was debating how much to say.
“Because this is the most interesting thing that’s happened to me in two years.”
Annayia blinked. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me.” A flicker of amusement crossed his face. “Do you have any idea how boring this job is? The same drills every day. The same paperwork. The same recruits making the same predictable mistakes. I’ve been running this camp for two years, and every single day has been exactly like the one before.”
He leaned against his desk, arms crossed, looking almost relaxed.
“And then you show up. A woman disguised as a man. Sneezes in my face on day one. Climbs restricted fences at midnight. Falls into my arms like a damsel in a bad romance novel. Gets spectacularly drunk and climbs on my back while calling me a ‘musly furnace.’ And now I find out you did all of this to rescue your brother — who isn’t even here.”
His mouth curved into something that wasn’t quite a smile but was definitely adjacent to one.
“You’re an absolute disaster,” he said. “But you’re a fascinating disaster. And I haven’t been fascinated by anything in a very, very long time.”
Annayia stared at him, completely thrown off balance. This was not the cold, terrifying commander she’d been dreading for weeks. This was someone else entirely. Someone dry and sardonic and almost playful.
“So,” she said slowly. “You want to help me because you’re bored?”
“Partly.”
“What’s the other part?”
He considered her for a moment. “You love your brother,” he said quietly, the teasing edge gone. “Enough to destroy your own life trying to find him. That’s either incredibly stupid or incredibly brave.”
“Probably both.”
“Definitely both.” The corner of his mouth twitched. “But I respect it. Most people talk about loyalty, about sacrifice, about family. You actually lived it. You put everything on the line for someone you love. I think you deserve all the help you can get.”
Something warm bloomed in Annayia’s chest despite the horrible circumstances.
“That’s… surprisingly nice of you to say.”
“Don’t get used to it. I have a reputation to maintain.”
“The reputation of being a cold, emotionless monster.”
“Exactly. Speaking of which —” He straightened, all business again. “Give me one week. A week to plan your exit properly. I need to create a paper trail. File false transfer orders. Arrange transportation that won’t be tracked. If we rush this, we make mistakes. Mistakes get you caught.”
One week. A week felt like an eternity when her brother was God knows where. But Lumen was right. She’d already made enough reckless decisions. It was time to be smart.
“One week,” she agreed reluctantly. “But not a day more.”
“Understood.”
He moved toward the door. “In the meantime, you’ll continue your training as normal. Attend drills. Maintain your cover. And report to me daily for your additional sessions.”
“Additional sessions?”
“Your masculine performance needs work. Consider it training.”
“You’re going to train me to be a better man.”
“I’m going to train you not to get caught. There’s a difference.”
He opened the door, then paused.
“Oh, and Annayia.”
Hearing her real name in his voice made something flutter in her chest.
“Yes?”
“The next time you feel the urge to call me a ‘musly furnace’ or an ‘attractive brick wall’ —” His eyes glinted with dark amusement. “At least wait until you’re sober. The drunk confessions are entertaining, but I prefer my compliments intentional.”
He walked out before she could respond.
Annayia stood alone in his quarters, face burning, heart racing, completely uncertain whether she’d just made a deal with a devil or an angel.
Possibly both.
The next five days were the strangest of Annayia’s life.
On the surface, nothing changed. She still woke before dawn. Still attended drills with the other recruits. Still slept on her thin, lumpy mattress in the barracks surrounded by snoring, farting men.
But underneath, everything was different. Because now Commander Lumen knew her secret. And instead of destroying her, he was protecting it.
The “additional training sessions” started on day two.
“Fields.” Lumen’s voice cut across the training yard like a whip crack. “With me. Now.”
60 heads turned. 60 pairs of eyes followed Annayia as she jogged toward the commander. The whispers started immediately.
“What did Pretty Boy do now?”
“Man, Lumen really has it out for him.”
“Ever since the sneeze, the commander’s been obsessed.”
“You think it’s punishment? Or… or what?”
“You know… or.”
The implication hung in the air, thick with scandal.
Annayia ignored it and followed Lumen across the compound to his office. The second the door closed behind them, his entire demeanor shifted.
“Your voice slipped four times during morning drills,” he said, dropping into his desk chair. “You touched your chest twice. And you’re still walking like you’re apologizing for existing.”
“I do not walk like—”
“You keep your shoulders rounded. Your arms crossed. Your body small. Men don’t do that. Men sprawl. They spread. They take up room like they’re entitled to it.”
“That sounds insufferable.”
“Welcome to masculinity. Now stand up straight.”
And so began the strangest training regimen Annayia had ever experienced.
He taught her to stand with her weight evenly distributed — shoulders back, chin lifted. To plant her feet wide instead of close together. To let her arms hang loose at her sides instead of protecting her chest.
“Better,” he said on day three, circling her slowly. “But you’re still holding tension in your hips. Loosen them.”
“My hips are fine.”
“Your hips are screaming ‘woman.’ Loosen them.”
She tried to adjust. Failed. He sighed, and then his hands were on her waist.
Annayia stopped breathing.
“Square,” he said, his voice low near her ear. “Men lead with their pelvis, not their shoulders. Like the movement comes from here.”
His thumbs pressed against her hipbones, adjusting her posture. His chest was close to her back, and his breath—
“Like this,” he murmured, guiding her through the movement. “Feel the difference.”
She felt a lot of things. The difference in her posture was the least of them.
“I— yes. I feel it.”
“Good.”
He stepped away again. She walked across his office, hyper-aware of every muscle, every movement, every place his hands had touched.
“Better,” he said. “Your hips are still moving too much, though. You sway.”
“I don’t sway.”
“You sway like you’re on a runway. It’s distracting.”
“Distracting to who?”
The words came out before she could stop them. Lumen’s eyes met hers. Something flickered in them — dark and warm and dangerous.
“To everyone,” he said finally. “Now again.”
By day four, the rumors had reached a fever pitch.
“I heard Lumen makes him do push-ups until he cries.”
“I heard Lumen makes him polish boots for hours.”
“I heard…” The recruit lowered his voice significantly. “They’re not doing training at all.”
Annayia, eating her dinner alone at the end of a table, pretended not to hear.
The speculation had split into two camps. Camp 1 believed Commander Lumen was systematically destroying Gavin Fields as punishment for the sneeze heard ’round the camp. They expected her to wash out any day — broken by the commander’s legendary cruelty.
Camp 2 believed something else. Something involving the phrase “special sessions” and knowing smirks and the way Lumen’s eyes followed her across the training yard.
Neither camp was entirely wrong. But both were very, very far from the truth.
“Hey, Gavin.”
Annayia looked up to find Bro sliding onto the bench across from her. His friendly face was creased with concern.
“You okay, man? You’ve been quiet lately.”
“Just tired. Extra training is brutal.”
“About that…” Bro glanced around, then leaned in. “People are talking. You know that, right?”
“Let them talk.”
“It’s not— I mean, I don’t care if you’re— you know.”
“I’m not.”
“Okay. But if you were—”
“I’m not.”
“Because Lumen’s never shown interest in anyone before. Not once in two years. And suddenly you show up, and he can’t stop staring at you during drills.”
“He’s monitoring my form.”
“Your form?”
“My running form. It needs work.”
Bro looked deeply skeptical. “Just be careful,” he said finally. “Whatever’s going on between you two… the general’s going to hear about it eventually. And that man makes Lumen look like a teddy bear.”
The mention of Lumen’s father sent a chill down Annayia’s spine.
“Thanks for the warning,” she said.
“That’s what friends are for.” Bro stood, clapping her shoulder hard enough to rattle her teeth. “And Gavin — whatever happens, I’ve got your back.”
He walked away, leaving Annayia with a complicated warmth in her chest. At least she’d made one real friend in this mess.
Day five brought a new challenge.
“All recruits report to the infirmary at 0800. Full physical examination required.”
The announcement blared across the compound. Annayia’s blood turned to ice.
Full physical examination. With actual doctors. Who would actually examine her body. Her very female body.
She found Lumen in his office 30 minutes before the scheduled checkup, panic clawing at her throat.
“I— I can’t do this.”
“You can.”
“They’re going to examine me. Touch me. They’ll know in five seconds.”
“They won’t.”
“How can you possibly—”
“Because I’ve already handled it.” He slid a paper across his desk. “According to your file, you have a rare medical condition that requires privacy during examinations. You’ll be seen by Dr. Harrison alone — who happens to owe me several significant favors and knows how to keep his mouth shut.”
Annayia stared at the paper, then at Lumen.
“You already planned for this?”
“I plan for everything.” He leaned back in his chair, looking far too pleased with himself. “Did you really think I’d let you walk into an examination room unprepared?”
Something shifted in Annayia’s chest. Something warm and unfamiliar and dangerous.
“Thank you,” she said quietly.
“Don’t thank me yet. We still have two more days to get through. And the physical is the easy part.”
“What’s the hard part?”
His jaw tightened almost imperceptibly.
“My father arrives tomorrow.”
The next morning, everything went to hell.
Annayia was practicing her combat stance in Lumen’s office — their fifth training session — when the door exploded open without warning.
A man strode in like he owned the building. Because he did.
General Boro Lumen was everything his son was and more. Taller by an inch. Broader by several. Silver at his temples, but still powerfully built, with a face like carved stone and eyes like chips of obsidian. His uniform was so heavily decorated it could have doubled as a chandelier. And his presence — God, his presence — filled the room like a toxic cloud, sucking all the oxygen out of the air.
Those black eyes landed on Annayia first. She saw dismissal. Contempt. Something that crawled over her skin like insects.
Then his gaze moved to Lumen, and his expression twisted into something ugly.
“Kendrick.” The name came out like a curse.
Lumen rose from his desk slowly. All traces of the almost-human man Annayia had been getting to know completely erased. His spine was rigid. His face was blank. His eyes were dead.
“General,” he said. “Sir.”
“I’ve been receiving reports.” The general’s voice dripped contempt. “Interesting reports. Disturbing reports.”
“Reports about what, sir?”
“About you.” General Lumen moved into the room, each step deliberate, predatory. “About your particular interest in one of the recruits.”
His eyes flicked to Annayia. The weight of that gaze made her want to disappear.
“My training methods are my own concern,” Lumen said carefully.
“Your training methods are my concern when they make this camp look like a joke.” The general stepped closer to his son, using every inch of height and authority to intimidate. “People are talking, Kendrick. Saying you’ve gone soft. Saying you’re distracted.”
He leaned in.
“Saying you’re more interested in this pretty boy than in running your camp properly.”
The word “boy” dripped with implication. With disgust.
Annayia’s hands clenched at her sides.
“I don’t know what you’re implying—” Lumen started.
“I’m not implying anything. I’m stating facts.” The general’s voice rose. “You are my legacy, Kendrick. My heir. I did not spend 20 years building this program just to watch you throw it away because you’re bored or lonely or—” His lip curled. “Confused about where your interests lie.”
“I haven’t thrown anything away.”
“You’ve been taking breaks.”
“I’ve been conducting specialized training.”
The general slammed his palm against the desk, making Annayia flinch. “Do you think I don’t know what happens in my own camp? Do you think I can’t see you pulling away? Checking out? Going soft?”
“I’m not going soft.”
“You wanted to be a travel blogger.”
The words hung in the air like poison. Annayia watched Lumen’s face go completely blank — shuddered like a door slamming shut on a room full of broken things.
“That was years ago,” he said quietly.
“You wanted to quit. To run away. To abandon everything I built for you so you could take pictures and write about your feelings like some—”
“I said that was years ago. And I beat that stupidity out of you once.” The general stepped even closer — their faces inches apart. “Apparently I need to do it again.”
The punch came without warning.
The general’s fist connected with Lumen’s jaw — a brutal, practiced blow that sent him staggering back. Blood bloomed at the corner of his lip. A bruise was already forming on that perfect bronze skin.
And something inside Annayia snapped.
“Hey!” The word exploded out of her before she could stop it.
Both men turned. The general’s eyes found her with the cold precision of a targeting system. His lip curled with renewed disgust.
“So. This is the one.”
He looked her up and down — cataloging every detail.
“So this is the pretty little thing that’s corrupted my son.”
“I haven’t corrupted anyone—”
“Silence.” The command cracked through the air like a whip. Annayia’s jaw snapped shut.
The general turned back to Lumen, who was wiping blood from his lip with the back of his hand.
“Get rid of him,” the general said, jerking his chin toward Annayia. “Tonight. I don’t care how. Transfer him. Make him disappear. And submit proof you did so. I don’t want to see that face anywhere near this camp when I return next month.”
“Father—”
“That’s an order, Commander.” The title dripped with contempt. “Unless you’d like me to handle the situation myself.”
The threat hung in the air. Lumen’s jaw tightened. His eyes — for just a moment — flickered to Annayia, then back to his father.
“Understood, sir.”
The general smiled. It was the coldest thing Annayia had ever seen.
“Good boy.”
He strode out without another word. The door slammed behind him.
Silence.
Annayia stared at Lumen, her heart pounding, her hands shaking with adrenaline and rage. He stood perfectly still in the middle of his office — blood dripping from his split lip, his expression completely unreadable.
“Sir—” she started. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have—”
“Don’t.”
One word. Sharp as broken glass. She fell silent.
He moved to his desk, pulled open a drawer, and retrieved a first aid kit — with movements so controlled, so mechanical they were almost robotic. He cleaned the blood from his lip without looking at her.
The silence stretched and stretched, and Annayia couldn’t take it anymore.
“He hit you,” she said quietly.
“He does that.”
“That’s— that’s abuse.”
“That’s—” He stopped. “That’s none of your concern.”
“How can you say that? You’re bleeding. He punched you in the face because people think you’re—”
“I know what people think.” His voice was flat. Dead. “I know what he thinks. None of it matters.”
“Of course it matters. He’s your father. He should—”
“He should what?” Lumen spun to face her, and for the first time she saw the fury behind his eyes — the raw, burning rage he kept so carefully controlled. “Love me? Support me? Let me be who I actually want to be?”
He laughed. It was not a pleasant sound.
“My father has never done any of those things. He never will. The only thing he’s ever wanted from me is obedience. And the only thing I’ve ever given him is exactly that.”
He turned away, pressing a cloth to his lip.
“Until now?” Annayia’s heart stuttered. “What do you mean?”
“I mean—” Lumen was quiet for a long moment. Then he looked at her. Something had changed in his expression. The ice was gone. The careful control was cracking.
And underneath, she saw something she hadn’t expected.
Fire.
“Your escape,” he said. “It’s tonight.”
“Tonight? But you said tomorrow—”
“Plans change.” He moved to the window. “There’s an unmarked transport truck scheduled for supply runs. It leaves at 2300 hours. I’ll ensure the guards don’t check too closely.”
“But what about the paperwork? The cover story you said we needed—”
“I’ll handle it from here. While your father is watching—” His jaw tightened. “I’ll handle it.”
His tone left no room for argument. Annayia watched him turn back to his desk, pulling out documents with quick, efficient movements.
Something wasn’t adding up.
“Why the rush?” she asked. “What aren’t you telling me?”
He paused. For a moment, she thought he wouldn’t answer. Then—
“My father’s right about one thing. I have been pulling away. I have been checking out. I’ve spent two years running this camp exactly the way he wanted. And every single day, I’ve felt a little piece of myself die.”
He started typing on his computer.
“Watching you — watching someone actually fight for what they love, consequences be damned — it reminded me of something I’d forgotten.”
“What?”
He looked at her. Really looked at her.
“That I used to want things, too.”
The weight of his words settled over the room. Annayia’s throat tightened.
“Lumen—”
“South gate,” he said quietly. “2300 hours. Don’t be late.”
She wasn’t late.
At exactly 2300 hours, Annayia slipped out of the barracks for the last time. She’d packed her few belongings into a small bag. Left nothing behind.
Said goodbye to no one except Bro, who she’d told she was being transferred.
“Man, that sucks.” He’d pulled her into a bone-crushing hug. “Stay in touch, okay? Don’t be a stranger.”
“I won’t.”
She’d lied.
Now she crossed the darkened compound alone — heart pounding, palms sweating. The transport truck was exactly where Lumen said it would be. Parked near the south gate. Engine idling. Keys in the ignition.
Too easy. Some part of her whispered. This is too easy.
But she didn’t have time for doubt. She had a brother to find.
She climbed into the driver’s seat, adjusted the mirrors, and pulled toward the gate. The guards barely glanced at her — just waved her through like she was any other supply run.
And then she was out.
The mountain road stretched before her — dark and winding. The lights of Blackstone fading in her rearview mirror.
She’d done it. She’d actually done it.
She’d infiltrated a military camp. Survived discovery. Made a deal with the devil. And escaped with her freedom intact.
Now all she had to do was find Daniel.
And then — a noise from the back seat.
Annayia’s blood froze. Slowly, heart hammering, she adjusted the rearview mirror.
And nearly drove off a cliff.
Commander Kendrick Lumen lounged in the back seat like he’d been waiting for her all along.
But not Commander Lumen. Not the man in the immaculate uniform with the rigid posture and the ice-cold expression. This was someone else entirely.
He wore all black — fitted pants that hugged his thighs in ways that should be illegal. A shirt so perfectly tailored it looked painted on, unbuttoned just enough to reveal a triangle of bronze chest. And around his neck, catching the dim light from the dashboard — a gold chain.
A gold chain against that skin, that shirt, that body.
Annayia swerved so hard the truck fishtailed.
“What the—”
“Eyes on the road,” he said calmly.
“What are you doing here?”
“Sitting. Enjoying the view.” His voice was different, too — lighter, almost lazy. “Although that view would be better if you weren’t driving like my grandmother.”
“You’re— you’re supposed to be at the camp.”
“Clearly, I’m not.”
“You can’t just— you— I thought—”
“You thought you were escaping alone.” He leaned forward, resting his arms on the back of the passenger seat. His face was suddenly very close. That gold chain swung slightly with the movement. “Surprise.”
The truck drifted toward the shoulder. Annayia yanked it back.
“Pull over,” he said.
“I’m not pulling over.”
“You’re going to kill us both.”
“Good. You deserve it. You scared me half to death. Why are you in my back seat?”
“Technically, it’s my back seat. My truck. My escape plan.”
He smiled. Actually smiled. And it transformed his entire face — made him look younger, softer, almost boyish, despite the sharp jaw and the stubble and the obscene amount of muscle.
“Pull over. I’ll drive.”
“I can drive perfectly well.”
“You drive like a snail having a panic attack.”
“I do not.”
“You’re doing 40 in a 60 zone, and your hands are shaking.”
They were. She was. Goddamn him.
She pulled onto the shoulder with more force than necessary and threw the truck into park. Then she turned to face him fully — heart hammering, brain struggling to process the absolute audacity of this man.
“Explain,” she demanded. “Now.”
He tilted his head, studying her with amusement. “I told you — your escape is tonight.”
“Yes. My escape. Not our escape. You were supposed to stay at the camp and cover for me.”
“Change of plans.”
“What about your job? Your position? Your father? What about—”
“He’ll have you arrested. Court-martialed. You said desertion is a federal crime—”
Lumen laughed. Actually laughed. It was a real laugh — low and warm and completely at odds with everything she thought she knew about him. It rumbled through the truck like thunder. And Annayia felt it vibrate somewhere in her chest.
“What’s so funny?”
“You.” He was still laughing, eyes crinkling at the corners. “God, your face right now. You really believed all of that.”
“Believed all of what?”
He leaned back, still grinning. The gold chain caught the light.
“Blackstone isn’t a military prison. It’s a training facility. People are free to leave whenever they want. All you have to do is submit a letter and get approval. Medical emergency. Family crisis. Personal reasons. It happens all the time. We process about 20 voluntary discharges a month.”
She stared at him. The grin widened.
“You could have faked a medical emergency on day one and walked out the front gate. No federal charges. No military police. No drama.”
The silence stretched.
And then—
“I’m going to kill you.”
She grabbed for him — she wasn’t sure what she was going to do, maybe strangle him, maybe throw him out of the truck — but he caught her wrists easily, still laughing.
“I spent days thinking I was trapped. I thought my entire life was over. I thought—”
“You thought you needed my help.” His grip on her wrists was firm but gentle. His eyes were dancing with mischief. “Which meant you had to wait for me to arrange it. Which gave me time to put my own affairs in order.”
The realization crashed over her.
“You lied to me.”
“I strategically managed information.”
“You made me terrified of leaving so you could delay me.”
“I made you cautious. There’s a difference.”
“So you could what? Sneak into the back seat and come along for the ride?”
“Exactly.” He released her wrists and settled back against the seat, looking perfectly content. “Now — are you going to drive, or shall I?”
Annayia stared at him, her mind reeling. This man — this cold, terrifying commander who had made her life hell for two weeks — was now lounging in the back seat of a stolen truck, wearing gold chains and a devastating smile, looking like he didn’t have a care in the world.
“Where are you even going?” she demanded.
“I don’t know. Wherever you’re going.” He shrugged. “I told you — I’ve been wanting to leave for years. You just gave me the excuse I needed.”
“Your father—”
“Is going to be furious. Which is exactly the point.”
She gaped at him. “You’re doing this to spite him?”
“I’m doing this because for the first time in my life, I’m choosing what I want instead of what I’m told to want.” His smile softened into something more serious. “And what I want is to get out of that camp, figure out who I am without a uniform, and maybe — if you’ll let me — help you find your brother.”
Annayia’s heart stuttered.
“Lumen…”
“Kendrick.” He tilted his head. “If we’re going to be partners in crime, you should probably use my first name.”
“Kendrick,” she repeated slowly. It felt strange on her tongue. Intimate. Wrong and right at the same time.
“Better.” He settled back in his seat. “Now — are we going to sit here all night, or are we going to go find your brother?”
Annayia looked at him — this infuriating, impossible, infuriatingly attractive man who had just upended her entire world. Again.
“You’re insane,” she said.
“Probably.”
“And reckless.”
“Definitely.”
“And I absolutely cannot believe I’m saying this, but…” She turned back to the steering wheel, put the truck in gear, and pulled back onto the road. “…fine. You can come.”
“Knew you’d see it my way.”
“I hate you.”
“You don’t.”
“Stop.”
“Make me.”
Annayia gritted her teeth and drove. The road stretched out before them — dark and winding and full of possibilities she hadn’t dared to imagine.
She had no idea where Daniel was. No idea what they’d find when they got there. No idea what this strange, complicated partnership would become.
But for the first time in weeks, she wasn’t alone.
And somehow — against every instinct she had — that felt like the most dangerous thing of all.