Soldier’s POV
"Damn it all to hell. I got sent in there on what should have been a simple retrieval mission. Command told to grab intel from the packhouse, but Luna Elena spotted before I could complete the objective." The words ca out harsher than I intended, frustration bleeding through every syllable.
Corbin’s expression darkened as he processed what I’d just told him. His jaw tightened in a way that made realize I’d stepped into sothing far more dangerous than a routine reconnaissance mission.
"Yeah, her and Damien both. Those two are absolute hell on earth when they’re protecting their territory. They’re not just tough pack leaders - they’re fucking legendary in every sense of the word. Their reputation spans across every hunter division from here to the Canadian border." He paused, running a hand through his hair. "That’s exactly why our protocols say we don’t engage with them directly. Not yet, anyway. Not until we have overwhelming numbers and the elent of complete surprise. I’m honestly shocked as hell that your previous Captain would send you anywhere near their territory without proper backup."
The more Corbin spoke, the more that sa realization was crystallizing in my mind. Sothing had gone seriously wrong with that mission assignnt, and I was starting to suspect it might not have been an accident.
As soon as we finished choking down the bland military rations they called lunch, Corbin imdiately dragged out to the training field. The afternoon heat was already brutal, but that didn’t seem to matter to him in the slightest.
"Ti for conditioning runs. We’re doing periter laps of the entire base today." His tone left no room for negotiation or complaint.
The whole damn base stretched out before us like a concrete maze designed by soone with a serious grudge against human endurance. The periter fence stood twelve feet high, topped with razor wire and electrified enough to fry anyone stupid enough to test it. We’d be running along that fence line with full combat packs strapped to our backs.
Corbin helped adjust the pack straps before we started. The weight distribution was crucial - one hundred and ten pounds of gear, ammunition, and supplies that would try to throw off my balance with every stride. He made sure the straps weren’t cutting into my shoulders and that the weight sat properly on my hips.
I noticed other soldiers running the sa route, but their loads looked significantly lighter. They were wearing standard green fatigues while we had the specialized black gear that marked us as part of the elite hunter division.
"Captain ntioned we’re the elite squad," I muttered as we started jogging. "Guess that ans they expect us to handle more than the regular units."
"Elite ans elite standards," Corbin replied without breaking stride. "Higher expectations, harder training, more dangerous missions. That’s the price of being the best."
That reality hit like a punch to the gut, but I wasn’t about to let it show.
The base covered roughly ten acres of carefully maintained tactical terrain. By the ti we completed our first full circuit, sweat was streaming down my back and soaking through my gear. My breathing was getting labored, but Corbin showed no signs of slowing down.
"Again," he announced as we rounded the starting point for the second ti.
I thought the bastard had lost his mind. My legs were already feeling the burn, and the pack weight was starting to feel like it had doubled since we started. But there was no way in hell I was going to let him see any weakness from .
I’d been training for combat my entire adult life. Every morning started with physical conditioning, every evening ended with tactical drills. I hadn’t built my reputation as a reliable operative just to have it destroyed on my first day with a new unit.
By the third lap, my lungs were screaming for more oxygen than I could pull in, but I kept pace with Corbin’s relentless rhythm. The electrified fence humd ominously beside us as we ran, a constant reminder that one stumble in the wrong direction would end this exercise very differently.
"That’s enough conditioning for today," Corbin finally announced as we crossed the finish line. "Drop the pack and grab your water. We’re moving to weapons training next."
I practically ripped the pack off my shoulders and grabbed my water bottle with hands that were shaking slightly from exhaustion. We started walking at a slower pace toward what I assud would be the shooting range.
Now this was sothing I could definitely handle. Standing in one position and putting rounds on target was exactly the kind of training I excelled at. After that brutal conditioning run, the prospect of stationary shooting felt like a vacation.
"What kind of ammunition do we use for training?" I asked quietly, making sure no one else was within earshot.
Corbin glanced around cautiously before responding. "We don’t use the standard shooting gallery that the regular troops train at. Our facility is on the opposite side of the base. It’s completely enclosed and only our division has security clearance for that building. Inside, we have specialized targets that represent our actual mission objectives, and we use the enhanced ammunition that’s specifically designed for our operations."
His coded language made the whole conversation sound like so kind of spy novel, but I understood what he ant. Golden bullets and werewolf-shaped targets weren’t exactly standard military equipnt.
When we reached the secure building, Corbin entered a complex code into the electronic lock. The door opened with a heavy click, and we descended three flights of stairs into what felt like a bunker beneath the base.
The sound of gunfire echoed from behind a reinforced door at the bottom level. We selected our weapons from a well-stocked armory wall, checked our loads, and grabbed extra magazines before entering the training area.
The space that opened before us was far more complex than any shooting range I’d ever seen. Instead of simple targets on a flat range, this was a full tactical obstacle course with walls, barriers, and cover positions scattered throughout.
So targets were clearly werewolf silhouettes, others were human shapes, and we obviously lost points for hitting the wrong ones. This wasn’t going to be the stationary shooting exercise I’d hoped for.
We’d have to navigate the entire obstacle course while engaging the correct targets under ti pressure.
I was already counting the hours until this training day would finally end.
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