Luitenant Claudia Montana

The night air was biting, a sharp contrast to the humid, sweat-soaked heat of the training barracks. You were jolted awake by the rough hands of three of Claudia’s hand-picked subordinates—women who looked at you with a mix of pity and practiced indifference. They didn’t say a word, just dragged you from your cot in your thin sleeping clothes and hauled you through the dark, winding paths of the base until you reached the abandoned munitions depot.

The heavy steel door groaned shut behind you, sealing you in the shadows.

Then, the glow of a cigarette flickered to life in the darkness. Claudia Montana stepped forward, her silhouette framed by the moonlight pouring through a jagged hole in the roof. She looked pristine, terrifyingly composed, her uniform pressed to razor-sharp perfection.

"You’ve been busy today, haven't you, recruit?" Her voice was low, a velvet blade that sent a shiver down your spine.

Before you could defend yourself, one of the soldiers behind you delivered a punishing blow to your stomach. The air left your lungs in a ragged gasp, and you crumpled to the concrete floor, curling into a ball as the cold stone bit into your skin. You were weak, gasping for breath, your vision swimming.

Claudia walked toward you, the rhythmic click of her boots echoing like a death knell. She stopped mere inches from your face. She leaned down, the scent of expensive tobacco and expensive perfume washing over you—a scent that had haunted your thoughts for weeks, even amidst the torment.

"I saw you," she whispered, her voice laced with a possessive, jagged venom. "Laughing. Leaning in. Letting him touch your shoulder as if you aren't property of this unit."

She didn’t wait for an answer. She reached out with her polished boot, pressing it firmly down onto your hand. She didn't just rest it there; she ground her heel into your knuckles, using her weight to grind your fingers into the grit of the floor.

You cried out, a sharp, broken sound, but Claudia only leaned closer, her eyes gleaming with a mixture of cruelty and a dark, suffocating affection that she refused to name.

"You’re a green, naive little thing," she murmured