Page 6 of Specter Bred

Farm Boy had taken the bottom bunk.

Samuel Hayes was half hanging off the mattress, one muscular arm dangling toward the floor while he snored loud enough to shake the damn frame. His ball cap had somehow stayed on, blond hair sticking out from beneath it in every direction. There was drool on his pillow.

Christ.

These were Command's best candidates?

I lifted the megaphone to my mouth.

"ON YOUR FEET!"

The room exploded into motion. Hayes jerked so hard he actually rolled off the bunk entirely, slamming shoulder-first into the floor with a curse.

Archer reacted faster.

She dropped from the top bunk in one smooth movement, landing lightly before immediately snapping to attention. Hayes scrambled upright beside her a second later, still trying to shove his boots on while standing. Both recruits stood rigid in front of me within seconds, breathing hard and disoriented, but alert.

"Why the hell aren't the two of you fuck-ups at orientation?"

Archer said nothing, standing rigidly at attention although she'd been dead asleep less than ten seconds ago.

Hayes glanced toward the clock glowing beside the bunk.

His brows furrowed.

"Sir, uh... we were told zero six hundred hours, sir," he said in a thick Southern drawl.

Archer cut in before he could continue making a fool of himself. "Sorry, sir. Our mistake. It won't happen again." Her posture remained tight, eyes fixed straight ahead.

"It had better not," I said coldly. “Or I’ll dismiss you both before you even get the chance to show us what kind of fuck-ups you are.”

Hayes looked like a kicked dog, his shoulders dipping as he stared at the floor, but Archer never moved. Most recruits cracked a little under pressure. Shifted, flinched, or let something show. Not her.

Her expression stayed controlled, but I still caught the subtle signs of anger in the tight set of her jaw and the flare of her nostrils. She was furious.

I almost smiled.

Archer was going to be fun to break. And she absolutely would break. I was going to make damn sure of it. These two had no business becoming Specters.

I knew that ASOG demanded alpha males bred to the absolute peak of human capability. Special operators could survive things that should have killed them ten times over, and even they didn't all make it out alive in the end.

Sending these two into active operations would be the equivalent of signing their death certificates. Command could play gender and designation politics all they wanted, but the field didn't care about optics or diversity initiatives. The field only cared whether you survived.

These two wouldn't.

No, I'd have them gone long before their five-month evaluation. And then I could focus on building my new unit from the proper candidates.

I circled the two misfit recruits slowly, the sharp click of my boots echoing across the floor as I inspected them in silence, letting the tension build while they wondered what I was thinking.

Hayes stood relaxed despite the situation, lacking the sharp-edged aggression most alpha candidates carried naturally. There was no challenge in his posture or instinctive dominance. Just openness.

Archer, on the other hand, looked ready to tear someone's throat out. If she thought that made her special, it didn't. Half of the Specters I'd buried had that same bulldog look, so aggression didn't mean she belonged here. It just meant her control was lacking, and she was one poor decision away from doing something stupid. In ASOG, stupidity usually got people killed.

"You have three minutes to get your asses to orientation on the training grounds," I said, setting a timer on my tactical watch. "Hurry."

Then I turned and walked out without another glance. Behind me, the room exploded into chaos as both recruits scrambled into their uniforms, tripping over themselves in their rush to obey.

I snorted as I headed down the hall, listening to Archer immediately start barking at her roommate.