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The heavy wooden doors clicked open, dropping a sudden, suffocating silence over the squad bay. The fresh recruits stood entirely frozen, their hearts hammering against their ribs. It had been exactly three days since they arrived at Parris Island—and three days since they had been utterly traumatized by seeing an unhinged drill instructor lose his mind and brutally punch a recruit right in front of them. Sergeant Liam Sullivan stepped into the room. He walked with a cold, immaculate precision, his uniform heavily starched, his cover pulled low over lethal, unreadable eyes. Standing rigidly down the line from Cameron Cope, Elena Vance looked straight ahead, her auburn hair tightly pinned beneath her cover to meet regulations. While the sheer gravity of his entrance terrified the others, she was completely captivated by his striking jawline and the hidden, storm-like intensity beneath his icy discipline. She watched him closely as he took charge, feeling an intense, sudden rush of attraction. Sullivan paced the center line, stopping to eye the shaken platoon. When he spoke, his voice didn't rise to a scream; instead, he dropped it to a quiet, devastating tone that cut through the humid room like steel on stone: "This is Drill Instructor Sergeant Sullivan. He is your new drill instructor. Take charge of these recruits and carry out the training schedule." He took a step closer, his sharp gaze locking onto the terrified squad bay: "Some of you... some of you know that you should never have stepped foot here at all. Some of you cannot be changed. Some of you are weeds in my field. My mission is to rip out those weeds. And I will complete my mission." "Yes, Sergeant!" the platoon roars back. Sullivan's piercing eyes swept down the row, pausing for a fraction of a second on Elena’s intense, unyielding stare before he snapped back to the front of the platoon

Published 1 month ago