All Chapters of The Commander's Pet: Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

POV: Callum MillerThe bass vibrated through the floorboards, rattling the red solo cups stacked on the kitchen counter. Sticky beer drenched the air, mixed with cheap perfume and sweat. I leaned my lower back against the edge of the kitchen island, folding my arms across my chest and forcing a tight, easy smile onto my face.“I’m telling you, man, she was looking right at you,” a guy from my frat-adjacent dorm muttered, elbowing me in the ribs and gesturing toward a blonde near the keg. “Go get her snap. What are you waiting for?”“I’m good,” I said smoothly, my voice calm, casual, practiced. “Not really my vibe tonight.”“Not your vibe? Bro, you’ve turned down three girls since we got here. Are you living in a monastery or something?” He laughed, taking a long swig from his cup. “You gotta live a little, Miller.”“Just focused on classes,” I lied, letting out a short chuckle to keep it light. “My dad’s breathing down my neck about my GPA. You know how he is.”“Right, the military ha

POV: Callum MillerSleep never came.I lay flat on my back in the suffocating darkness of my bedroom, watching the morning twilight slowly bleed through the slatted blinds. My headphones were still coiled tightly in my palm, cold against my sweaty skin. Every time I closed my eyes, that deep, gravelly baritone echoed through my mind, vibrating straight into my bones.“Think about it, handsome.”A fierce, embarrassing throb pulsed between my thighs for the hundredth time that night. I squeezed my eyes shut, burying my face in my pillow to stifle a frustrated groan.I was pathetic. One audio preview from a total stranger on an encrypted audio server, and I was lying awake like a desperate, needy wreck.My phone hummed softly under my pillow.I jerked upright, my heart leaping straight into my throat. With trembling hands, I pulled the device out and unlocked the glowing screen.The dark red interface of Echo was still open. Sitting at the bottom of The Command Post profile was the direc

POV: Callum MillerThe campus library basement was dead silent, save for the low, rhythmic hum of the ventilation system overhead. Tucked deep behind the dusty stacks of criminal justice law texts, I sat on a low wooden bench in the furthest corner, my knees pulled up against my chest.Outside, rain lashed against the narrow high-set basement windows, but down here in the dim light, the world felt completely muted. Completely private.I pulled my heavy jacket tighter around my shoulders, my thumbs fidgeting nervously over my glowing phone screen. My high-grade headphones were locked into my ears, forming a vacuum of total isolation.On the screen, the dark red interface of Echo sat open.A single new voice note sat at the bottom of my encrypted thread with Commander.Commander: [Audio Note - 0:16]My stomach did a dizzying, fluttery flip. My breath hitched, a familiar spike of heat racing straight down to my thighs. I tapped play, pressing the headphone speakers deeper into my ears.“

POV: Callum MillerThe quiet hum of the campus library alcove was supposed to keep me grounded, but my mind was miles away…or rather, twelve kilometers away, closing in fast.I sat squeezed into the narrow wooden desk at the back of the stacks, my open criminal justice textbook acting as a useless shield against the outside world. My eyes hadn't processed a single line of text in thirty minutes. Every muscle in my body was wired tight, trembling with a volatile mixture of sheer terror and relentless, suffocating arousal.My high-grade headphones were pushed firmly against my ears, sealing out the occasional rustle of turning pages from distant tables.On the screen of my phone, hidden safely beneath the rim of the desk, the dark red interface of Echo sat open.A new audio file from Commander lit up my encrypted thread.[Audio Note - 0:42]My throat went dry. My heart pounded against my ribs like a battering ram. My fingers were trembling so violently I almost dropped the phone as I ta

POV: Callum MillerThe tailgate of the massive black truck came down with a heavy, metallic thud that echoed into the damp evening air. Rain drizzled over my shoulders, soaking into the fabric of my jacket, but I barely felt the chill. My hand was still hot…throbbing with the phantom pressure of Gideon Sterling’s grip, my pulse hammering a frantic, erratic rhythm against my ribs.In the truck bed lay two heavy, military-grade tactical duffel bags made of thick black ballistic nylon. They looked weathered, packed tight, and reinforced with rugged steel hardware.I reached in, grabbing the reinforced straps of the first bag. The moment I pulled, a soft grunt escaped my throat. The bag was extraordinarily dense, feeling like it was loaded with lead weights or solid steel gear. I braced my boots against the wet gravel, hauling it over the tailgate before hoisting the second one onto my opposite shoulder. The straps dug deep into my collarbones, the sheer weight threatening to pull me off