Sebastian did not turn. "Enter."

His second stepped in, a compact woman named Irena with cropped dark hair, sharp eyes, and the exhausted competence of someone who had read the same northern reports and found them equally insulting.

"Convoy moves in twenty," she said.

"I know."

"Updated roster came through."

Sebastian reached for his sidearm. "Any changes?"

"No dominant omega."

His hand paused for half a second, then resumed.

"I saw."

Irena’s mouth tightened. "That’s a hole."

"It is."

"Command says the northern route is stable enough."

Sebastian smiled faintly. "Command says many comforting things before breakfast."

Irena gave him a dry look. "You are very calm for someone being handed optimism as a shield."

"I dislike panic before nine."

"It’s nine-thirty."

"Then I am late."

Her mouth twitched.

Then she stepped further in and lowered her voice. "Your pheromones?"

Sebastian looked at her through the mirror.

"Balanced."

"For now."

"For now," he agreed.

They were both professionals. There was no need to pretend the situation was ideal.

A dominant alpha could fight without a dominant omega. Many did. Most, in fact. But beast season was not a duel, and infected beasts were not standard field threats. Long exposure, corrupted pheromone residue, blood heat, adrenaline, command pressure, it accumulated. It tired the body to the point where it began to associate survival with violence and violence with need.

A dominant omega could stabilize that.

Dean could neutralize within a meter, which was absurd and strategically obscene.

Andrea could anchor Thomas Lancaster’s team.

Arion had Dean.

Thomas had Andrea.

Sebastian had discipline.

He had survived on less.

Irena seemed to be thinking something similar and liking it just as little. "Are we ignoring the fact that Alamina is punishing Palatine for whatever they think happened until now?"

Sebastian sighed and pulled his long black hair through a tie. "Well, Palatine has more to apologize for—"

"Yes, but that was Caelan’s fault, and he is dead."

Sebastian’s fingers stilled for half a second around the tie.

Then he finished binding his hair at the nape of his neck with precise, controlled movements.

"Death," he said, "has never been an efficient apology."

Irena’s mouth tightened. "No. But it is a useful jurisdictional limit."

Sebastian looked at her through the mirror.

"Alamina is not punishing Palatine," Sebastian said.

Irena lifted one brow. "No dominant omega attached to your team."

"That is resource allocation."

"That is a sentence from a memo written by someone with a very expensive education and no intention of explaining himself."

Sebastian’s mouth almost curved.

"You only have recovery patches and optimism for this mission."

"I have you."

"That is not as comforting as you think."

"It was meant as a compliment."

"I know. I am rejecting it strategically."

This time, Sebastian did smile, faintly.

"Sebastian," she said, quieter now, "I’m serious. The lack of a dominant omega in our team is not just inconvenient. With the new insect theory, it is stupid. And Alamina is not stupid."

No.

That was the problem.

Alamina was not stupid.

Hendrik was not stupid. Arion was certainly not stupid. Otto had not kept his empire standing by letting sentiment distort field logic, and if the season was as ugly as the early reports suggested, then every team should have been built with brutal practicality.

Sebastian looked down at the injection case in his hand and let out a dry chuckle. "Hendrik is most likely betting on Nero coming to help us and on my ability to use organic matter to explode. He knows I can kill beasts without approaching them too much, and he is going to count on that."

Irena stared at him.

For a moment, she looked as if she was deciding whether to be impressed, furious, or request immediate reassignment to a country with less creative commanders.

Then she said, "That is not comforting."

"It wasn’t meant to be."

"You said it too calmly."

"I find panic makes equipment checks slower."

Irena’s mouth tightened. "Hendrik is using you as a controlled detonation point."

Sebastian clipped the injection case to his belt with a precise motion. "In fairness, I am one."

"That was not permission."

"No," Sebastian agreed. "But it is field logic."

His ability had always made people uncomfortable in a particular way. Some dominant alphas crushed pressure with force. Some controlled space using only pheromones. Sebastian’s gift was both ugly and practical. Organic matter responded if he could touch it with enough intent, pheromone saturation, and command.

Flesh. Rot. Tendon. Infected growth.

Beasts were full of things that could rupture.

He did not need to get close enough to be heroic.

Only close enough to make the body remember it was temporary.

Irena looked at him for another long second. "And Nero?"

Sebastian’s fingers stilled.

"He won’t come without orders," Sebastian said.

"You sound certain."

"I am."

"Hendrik might not be."

Sebastian lifted his gaze. "Hendrik is not sentimental. He may be counting on Saha reinforcing the relay if the northern line strains, but he will not build a plan that depends entirely on Nero breaking discipline."

"No. He will build one that leaves room for it."

Sebastian smiled faintly. "Yes."

Irena exhaled a curse under her breath. "That is worse."

"It is politics."

"It is manipulation."

"Those are often the same language spoken at different volumes."

Irena looked like she wanted to throw the tablet at him.

Sebastian almost admired her restraint.

"He is also counting on you not reporting the emotional part of this," she said.

Sebastian raised a brow. "There is no emotional part in the report."

"Sebastian."

"There is not," he said, too smoothly. "There is only a dominant alpha with a destructive long-range ability assigned to a route where approaching infected beasts may become more dangerous if insect transmission is confirmed. There is an allied Sahan unit positioned south with mobility and burn capacity. There is a relay node between the two lines, which Saha is already strengthening because they are not idiots. All very clean."

"All very clean," Irena repeated, flat. "Except you know exactly why Saha is strengthening the relay."

Sebastian pulled on one glove finger by finger. "Preparedness."

"Do not lie to me before breakfast."

"It is after breakfast."

"Then do not lie to me before I have enough caffeine to tolerate it."

His mouth curved despite himself.

He knew the essence of Nero’s intelligence. He knew how Nero could obey a line while still walking around it so carefully that no one could accuse him of crossing. He knew Nero would not request a northern transfer. He would not send private messages. He would not appear at Sebastian’s back with that bright, terrible smile and call it coincidence.

But he would look at the relay, he would see the same weak points and would strengthen the area around Sebastian without touching Sebastian at all.

Sebastian hated how much relief that gave him.

Irena watched his face with the patience of someone cataloguing damage.

"Are you going to let him?" she asked.

Sebastian looked up. "Let him what?"

"Protect the route around you while pretending it is for the campaign."

His answer should have come quickly.

It did not.

That delay was its own confession.

Finally, he said, "If Saha reinforces an allied relay according to command protocol, I have no grounds to object."

Irena’s stare became very dry. "That was beautifully disgusting."

"Thank you."

"It was not praise."

"I accepted it anyway."

She stepped closer, lowering her voice. "You know this is how it happened the first time, don’t you?"

Sebastian went still.

Irena did not stop.

"You let useful help remain useful because refusing it would have made the field harder. He let you pretend not to notice because asking would have made it personal. And now both of you are standing on opposite sides of the map calling the same thing strategy."

Sebastian’s jaw tightened.

"That is enough," he said.

"No," Irena replied. "It is exactly enough. You are my commander. If your pheromones fray on the field, I need to know whether you will follow protocol or whether you will wait for an eighteen-year-old prince from Saha to make your survival easier without making you ask."

The silence after that was sharp.

But something beneath them shifted, not a release, not even a threat, only the cold internal adjustment of a man forcing himself not to answer too fast.

"I will follow protocol," he said.

Irena held his gaze. "Before the strain becomes visible?"

"Yes."

"Before your ability starts taking too much out of you?"

"Yes."

"Before Nero’s absence becomes something you try to outlast out of pride?"

Sebastian did not answer.

Irena’s eyes narrowed.

Sebastian looked away first.

The failure tasted bitter.

"Sebastian."

"I said I will follow protocol."