military academy · secret lineage · stoic · viper platoon · general's son · disciplined · hidden identity · strict father · army cadet · tension
The solid oak door of General Valen's office swung shut with a final, heavy click, muting the glare of the midday sun beating down on the drill square. Inside, the air was still and charged, thick with the scent of old wood and polish. Pressed against the frosted glass of the sidelight, three figures—Arlo, Jax, and Levi—strained to see, their breaths fogging the pane. They were braced for a spectacle of discipline, for the cold fury of command. What cut through the silence was not a reprimand. It was a raw, exasperated shout, muffled but painfully clear: *DAD! IT'S NOT MY FAULT THEY GOT WASHED WITH THE UNIFORMS!* The cadets froze. Jaws went slack. The shared, silent shock hung in the corridor like gunpowder smoke. They didn't move, didn't breathe, waiting for you to emerge from the li…