Chapter 13: The Cabin Rule

The heavy timber door of Cabin 7 slammed shut, cutting off the howling mountain wind and the distant, harsh barking of the military instructors. Ash let his tactical duffel bag slip from his white-knuckled grip, the heavy canvas hitting the bare wooden floorboards with a dull, hollow thud.

The interior of the space was brutally small—a cramped, isolated box made of rough-hewn pine logs that smelled faintly of dry rot and old woodsmoke.

A single, rusted iron radiator clanked violently in the corner, hissed a plume of hot steam, and did absolutely nothing to clear the freezing chill clinging to the rafters.

Ash spun around on his heel, his combat boots skidding against a loose knot in the floorboards as he threw his hands up defensively.

"This is the line, Sebastian... right here," Ash hissed, his voice a jagged, raw whisper that scraped the back of his dry throat like a blade.

He pointed a shaking finger at the narrow gap of floor separating them, his stormy blue eyes wide, hyper-focused, and flashing with a volatile mix of panic and pure pride.

"You stay on your side of the room... you don't touch my gear, you don't look at my layout, and you keep your distance."

Sebastian didn't answer right away, his movements maintaining that signature, unbearable Northmont discipline that made Ash's blood boil.

He reached behind his back, his long, pale fingers wrapping around the brass deadbolt of the cabin door.

Click.

The lock engaged with a heavy, definitive metallic snap that echoed off the bare walls like a cell door locking into place.

Seb smoothly reached up to his throat, his thumb and forefinger catching the heavy top button of his dark tactical uniform collar.

He twisted it free, then unfastened the second one, exposing the long, pale line of his neck and the sharp, elegant curve of his collarbone.

"You need to lower your voice, Asher," Seb murmured, his low velvet tone dropping into an icy register that carried zero room for negotiation.

He didn't take a step forward, but his broad shoulders completely filled the narrow entryway, his long shadow stretching across the floorboards until it swallowed Ash's boots.

"The logs in these recruitment depots are uninsulated... the walls are practically paper-thin."

He tilted his head slightly, his gray eyes darkening behind his gold-rimmed lenses as his nostrils flared, taking an invasive count of the air.

"Sterling's bunk is less than fifty feet down the gravel path," Seb continued, his voice dropping even lower, vibrating directly against the wooden beams.

"Right now... you are practically radiating heat. If you don't let me thoroughly scent this cabin by midnight... the entire camp will know the truth."

Ash's jaw locked so hard the joint popped with a sharp, clicking sound, his hands clenching into tight, heavy fists inside his pockets.

He backed up a step, his spine hitting the rough, unpeeled bark of the log wall behind him, the sharp texture biting into his shoulder blades.

The room was already changing.

The moment Seb unbuttoned his collar, a massive, crushing wave of pristine cedar pheromones detonated from his skin, filling the small space.

It wasn't the faint, controlled stream from the transport bus; this was a thick, suffocating blanket of raw Alpha dominance.

The freezing forest notes rushed into every corner of the small room, instantly swamping the stale air and wrapping around the logs like a physical barrier.

Ash's breath hitched completely, his lungs locking up as the sheer biological weight of the scent crashed over his feverish system.

Deep in his lower belly, the hollow, liquid heat flared up in a frantic, terrifying response, a sudden surge of adrenaline racing through his veins.

His knees gave a slight, traitorous wobble, forcing him to slide his palms against the rough wood behind him to maintain his balance.

He hated how his body reacted to the pressure.

He hated the fact that the moment the cedar scent saturated the cabin, his frantic, paranoid mind felt a sudden, terrifying sense of relief.

The primal, newly awakened Omega instincts deep in his core weren't recognizing the room as a prison; they were recognizing it as a secure perimeter.

His biology was misinterpreting Seb's heavy, territorial marking as a protective wall, transforming the isolated shack into a safe, sealed nest.

"I have my own blockers," Ash managed to growl through gritted teeth, his fingers secretly darting toward the zipper of his first-aid pouch.

"I don't need you to stain my clothes... I can manage the extraction metrics myself."

"You'll poison yourself before the first morning drill," Seb countered flatly, his stride closing the distance between them with absolute precision.

He stopped less than an inch away, his broad chest nearly brushing Ash's unbuttoned collar, his presence completely overwhelming the narrow aisle.

He reached out, his long, pale fingers catching the edge of Ash’s tactical jacket, the fabric rustling loudly in the quiet space.

He didn't pull Ash in, but his fingers tightened down, his knuckles transferring a grounding, icy chill straight through the heavy canvas material.

"Sit down, Ash... before your legs make the decision for you."

Ash wrenched his shoulder back, breaking the light grip with a sharp, defensive snap, his face burning a deep, violent crimson.

He turned his back on Seb, his eyes darting frantically around the small room until they hit the final, crushing reality of their layout.

Against the far wall, sitting directly beneath the small, frosted windowpane, was a single, narrow military bunk.

There were no secondary cots, no spare mattresses rolled up in the corner, and absolutely no additional blankets stowed away.

One bed.

Ash stared at the thin wool blanket and the single pillow, his chest rising and falling in sharp, jagged bursts as his pride shattered completely.

"You take the floor," Ash spat out, his voice cracking slightly as he refused to look back at the taller Alpha standing behind him.

"I'm the captain of this team... I'm not sharing a mattress with you."

Sebastian didn't argue, and he didn't offer a sarcastic retort to the desperate, fraying display of authority.

He simply walked over to the side of the bunk, his heavy combat boots clicking cleanly against the pine floorboards with a slow, deliberate rhythm.

He sat down on the very edge of the mattress, his long legs stretching out across the narrow floor space, his back perfectly straight.

He reached up, casually removing his gold-rimmed glasses and placing them face-up on the small wooden crate beside the pillow.

Without the lenses, his gray eyes looked entirely different—darker, sharper, and laced with an intense, unyielding focus that made Ash's throat tighten.

He didn't move to clear the covers, and he didn't offer to share the center of the narrow bed, keeping his hands flat against his knees.

He just watched.

Ash stood frozen in the center of the cabin for three long, agonizing minutes, the wind outside rattling the glass pane above the bunk.

The fever was returning with a vengeance, the liquid heat making his eyelids heavy and his limbs feel like blocks of wet cement.

Slowly, with an agonizing reluctance that made every muscle in his back ache, Ash moved toward the edge of the frame.

He climbed onto the mattress, his movements stiff and mechanical as he dragged his body toward the furthest, highest corner of the bed.

He curled his knees up toward his chest, his back pressed hard against the freezing glass of the window, keeping his eyes locked on Seb's profile.

He gripped the hem of his own jacket, pulling it tight around his ribs, shivering violently as the cedar scent completely swallowed his senses.

Seb remained perfectly still on the edge of the mattress, his face shadowed by the dim light of the radiator, his gray eyes tracking every single breath Ash took in the dark.