Chapter 1: Spring is coming

The frontlines were quiet at dusk, the sky a murky slate-gray as yellow light filtered faintly through the canopy.

An omega stood at the forest’s edge, black tactical vest hugging her lean frame. Her combat jacket was rolled and draped loosely over her shoulders. Scars marked her jawline—faint reminders of old fights—one of them still beaded with blood.

She half-squinted toward the thick treeline, then tipped back her canteen and drank fast.

“Captain.”

She choked. The water caught in her throat, and she doubled over, coughing hard, her slim waist flexing with each spasm.

“Shit—” she snapped hoarsely, wiping her mouth. “Can’t you make a goddamn sound when you walk?”

“I did.”

The other figure stepped into view, holding out his own water bottle. He tapped it lightly against her empty one and said, deadpan, “Cheers.”

She let out a breath between a scoff and a laugh, wiping the last trace of blood from her chin. “What is it?”

He stared at her. Blinked. Blinked again. Quickly. Repeatedly.

She raised an eyebrow. “The hell’s wrong with your face? You having a seizure?”

The omega tossed her bottle at him. He caught it, and she turned back to the jungle like the moment hadn’t happened.

He came up beside her, close—but not too close.

“The commander sent word.”

She didn’t turn around. “Let me guess. I’m being called back?”

“Yeah.” He shifted his stance. “Only one line this time.”

“What line?”

He hesitated. “Spring is coming.”

Amelia turned, narrowing her eyes. “What the fuck did you just say?”

The omega—her height, maybe a shade shorter—stepped back fast and spun to bolt.

“It wasn’t me!” he shouted over his shoulder. “It was the commander! The commander said spring is coming!”

“James!” Amelia raised a hand and pointed after him, her tone low but sharp as a blade. “You better run fast, and keep fucking running.”

From the crest of a small hill, James cupped his hands around his mouth and hollered, “Departure time’s confirmed! We're heading back to base tomorrow morning!”

“Tomorrow morning?”

Amelia stared after his retreating figure until he disappeared, then brushed the wind-tossed strands of hair from her face. A name whispered silently through her mind.

She looked up at the blackened sky and let the barest hint of a smile touch her lips.

.....

After the final training session, the special ops unit stood at attention.

Compared to the alpha squads, the omegas were leaner, more compact—but they weren’t any less dangerous.

Unlike the rigid regulation teams, Amelia’s squad didn’t give a damn about dress codes or grooming standards.

Captain Amelia wore her shoulder-length hair loose. Of the other six, one had a buzz cut, another rocked dreadlocks, and the rest each had a look all their own.

Standing before them, Amelia addressed the day’s issues with a relaxed ease, as if debriefing a group of old friends rather than an elite combat team.

“Today was our last drill. We ship out at first light. Make sure your gear’s squared away before then.”

They exchanged glances, and finally, all six turned to her with matching grins.

“Do we really have to prepare red envelopes, Captain?” one of them asked with a smirk.

Amelia didn’t bite. “Yeah, pack more.”

Without another word, she turned and walked off the training ground alone.

The wind picked up again, rustling the jungle leaves and lifting her hair like fingers brushing across her shoulders.

......

“Hey, is it true the Captain’s really gonna marry someone from the Windsor family?”

The omega with the buzz cut slung an arm around the shoulders of the guy beside him, grinning.

The other omega ducked under his arm with practiced ease.

“What’s wrong? You don’t like me?” Buzz Cut raised his arm dramatically and sniffed. “No smell, right?”

He shoved his arm toward the third guy sitting nearby. “James, check for me. Seriously—no scent at all?”

James, who had just holstered his freshly cleaned gun, gave the outstretched arm a brief glance and frowned. “Your pheromones are leaking.”

He added flatly, “And they reek.”

Buzz Cut’s eyes widened. “The fuck did you just say? Your pheromones are the ones that stink. Apologize or I’m not bringing you along tomorrow to find that alpha.”

Their voices rose and fell as they bickered and wandered off, fading into the direction of the tents.

The one who’d ducked away earlier stayed behind, a few steps apart from the others. He stood still, back to the retreating group.

His breathing slowly evened out.

Then, almost unconsciously, he reached up and touched the back of his neck. His fingers brushed against the gland there—warm, sensitive, and just starting to ache.

......

A few minutes later, Amelia emerged from the makeshift shower tent, a towel draped over her shoulders, damp hair still dripping down her back.

She dried her hair as she walked, stopping when she caught sight of someone still lingering at the training field’s edge.

It was hard to make out in the dark, but she recognized his silhouette.

She slung the towel around her neck and walked toward him.

Before she could say anything, he turned.

“Captain.” He was the one to speak first.

“Yeah?” she answered. “Aren’t you happy? We’re heading back tomorrow.”

He shook his head. “Not really. You know my family’s far off. I’d rather stay in the barracks than go home on leave.”

Amelia chuckled under her breath, then lightly punched his shoulder.

He flinched playfully and stepped back, but when he looked up again, the strange tension in his gaze had already vanished. He smiled, easier now.

“I’m serious.”

“If the others hear that, they’ll gang up on you for sure.” Amelia turned toward the treeline, and he fell in step beside her, the two of them staring out into the darkness together.

The jungle night wasn’t quiet. The wind rustled the leaves and carried the constant hum of insects.

They stood in silence for a while. Amelia’s half-dried hair caught the breeze, spreading a faint, clean scent in the air.

“Stop overthinking it,” she finally said. “Let them take you out tomorrow and mess around. I swear, you won’t remember home.”

“I’m not homesick…” he muttered.

Then his eyes lit up. “What kind of messing?”

Amelia turned and started walking away. “You’ll find out.”

He spun around and followed close behind, pestering her. “What kind of fun? Is it the kind that actually makes people happy?”

“Yes,” she replied, giving him nothing more.

.....

Later that night, back at camp, Amelia lay in her tent with her hands folded behind her head, staring up at the canvas ceiling. Her eyes were wide open, her mind far from sleep.

Eventually, she sat up and reached for the book beside her.

But as she turned a few pages, something slipped out—a photo she’d been using as a bookmark.

It landed face up on the ground. She didn’t reach for it. Just glanced down.

Then she looked back at the book, trying to keep reading. But the words swam in front of her eyes, blurring into a mess.

She gave up. Her thoughts were tangled, thick and sticky like wet ink.

Finally, her gaze returned to the photo.

A fifteen-year-old alpha boy sat in a wheelchair. He wore a crisp shirt with a tie, a soft gray blanket draped over his legs.

He wasn’t looking at the camera—just turned slightly, showing his profile. Even at that young age, his features were sharpening, and his posture was flawless. Back straight. Chin high.

Every inch of him radiated that particular kind of old-money pride.

Amelia narrowed her eyes.

“…Pompous little bastard,” she muttered. Then she dropped the book back over the photo, covering his face completely.

Lying back down, Amelia finally began to feel sleep tug at her.

Drowsiness came in slow waves, and just as she drifted into it, she saw someone sitting in her tent.

It was the boy from the photo.

“You…” Amelia sat up abruptly, staring at him. Her gaze dropped to his legs instinctively. “Your… legs. They’re fine?”

The alpha nodded.

“Oh.” She was about to get up, but then something sweet and sharp hit her nose.

It was faint at first, but it quickly grew stronger—clean, rich, and undeniably alpha.

Amelia wrinkled her nose, sniffed again. The heat behind her neck was unmistakable.

“Shit,” she muttered under her breath. “Seriously, Amelia? Haven’t you smelled pheromones before? Why the hell are you—”

“You’re so sexually hungry..”

She blinked.

“…Yeah, I’m—wait. What?” Her tone snapped mid-thought as she caught what he’d said. She glared at him. “If I’m sexually hungry, then you must be seriously fucking bad.”

He stood up slowly, taking a step forward. The scent deepened, wrapping around her like warm smoke.

Amelia tried to back up, but the tent wasn’t big enough for that. Every time she stepped away, he just moved closer.

And with every inch of space between them disappearing, her breath got hotter, her chest tighter.

This can’t be happening. She hadn’t even met this alpha in real life—and yet, her glands were heating like she was heading into pre-heat.

Unacceptable. Totally unacceptable.

And yet… His scent was too good. Too intoxicating. She couldn’t ignore it.

She stared at him now—those red-tinged eyes, the sharp bridge of his nose—and her eyes drifted lower. His mouth. Full, a little too red, too perfect.

“I’m so terrible, but I’ve made you horny?”

Her breath hitched. “What the fuck are you saying?” she shot back, pushing herself as far into the tent wall as she could. “It’s not— It’s not that. Your pheromones just stink. I’m choking on it.”

“Oh?” He tilted his head. “Is that right?”

Amelia straightened, arms crossed. “Yeah. No one ever told you before? That you reek?”

“You’re the first.”

She sneered. “Guess that means you don’t have any friends.”

His shoulders slumped. The light in his eyes dimmed instantly. “Yeah,” he said softly. “I guess I really don’t.”

His head dipped lower.

Amelia’s bravado cracked.

“No, wait. That’s not what I—” She reached behind him awkwardly, about to pat his shoulder. “I didn’t mean—”

But then she caught it. The twitch at the corner of his mouth. The barely-there smirk.

“Oh, hell no.” Her hand curled into a fist, ready to punch him, when—

“Captain? Are you awake?”

The voice came from outside the tent.

And just like that— The scent was gone. The alpha was gone.

Amelia sat there in stunned silence.

She rubbed her forehead, groaning softly. “What the hell kind of dream was that?”