Chapter 1

The ground shook as another explosion hit nearby, rattling the bunker walls. Captain Harper let out a breath as she slowly rode out her orgasm on the cock of the man underneath her. She had to be careful not to put too much weight on his injuries as she bucked her hips. His face was twisted in a grimace of pain, but his eyes never left her breasts, which were bouncing with each movement. The blanket below them was the only soft thing between him and the hard bunk floor, but he didn’t seem to mind the rough ride.

Another explosion went off, sounding closer than the last. She sighed and looked down at Sergeant Will Anders, who was still catching his breath beneath her.

“Well, looks like playtime’s over,” she said, sliding off him and grabbing her clothes off the floor.

Will watched her as she pulled on her pants and zipped them up. Harper was always in charge. In bed and in the field. She was a rank above him, just like she was always above him in bed. She liked it that way, and he didn’t mind following her lead.

“You hear what everyone’s been talking about?” she muttered, strapping on her belt. “Always the same. Everyone’s so busy with this John Connor crap, like he’s all that matters because of some stupid prophecy.” She yanked her torn in half shirt over her head, annoyed. “It’s like the rest of us don’t exist.”

Will sat up, pulling on his own pants as he watched her breasts disappear behind her shirt. A shirt that was ripped in half, exposing her stomach, and used to wrap around his injured leg. Harper was already on her feet, pacing the small bunker.

“John Connor this, John Connor that,” she continued. “Like he’s the only one keeping us alive out there.”

Another explosion hit, making the ground tremble again. Harper glanced at the door, already focused on the next fight.

“Without us doing the dirty work, Connor would be dead by now.” She grabbed her gun, her voice sharp with frustration. “And that’s the truth.”

Harper’s frustration was voiced loudly in the small empty bunker as she slung her rifle over her shoulder, the worn leather strap settling comfortably across her chest, sitting between her breasts. Will was still pulling his shirt over his head, watching her as she paced, her boots kicking up dirt from the floor.

She reached up and pulled her long dark hair back into a tight ponytail, the ends just reaching her shoulders. Her fingers moved quickly, securing the elastic band and pulling the strands away from her face. It was a simple act, but one that had become second nature to her. Her hair was only let down when she was going to bed, and in bed.

“We’re the ones out here, breaking our backs, risking our lives and bleeding. But no, all anyone ever talks about is Connor. Like he’s the one out here in the mud with us,” She continued ranting.

Will stood off the ground, his muscles stiff from both the earlier fight and the rougher moments after. He zipped up his jacket, glancing toward the bunker door where the sounds of war still raged outside.

“Yeah, well ... he’s the face of it all, right? People need something to believe in.” Will said, checking his rifle.

Harper scoffed, her hands on her hips as she turned to face him.

“Believe in?” She shook her head. “They believe in some prophecy like he’s a goddamn savior, like he’s a deity, but it’s us who are dying out there. Us who are really saving what’s left of humanity.” She crossed the small space and grabbed his shoulder roughly, her tone a little softer now but still edged with that command only she could pull off. “People like you, Will. You’ve taken bullets, shrapnel. Hell, I just rode you like a damn battle horse, and you barely winced because you’re use to the pain of war.” She made herself smile for a moment before looking at him with soft eyes. “But do they care? No. It’s always ‘Connor will save us.’”

Will looked up at her, catching her gaze, the fire in her eyes that drew him in and kept him going.

“Well, I care,” he said, his voice as soft as hers. “You know that.”

She smiled and giggled, a rare sight from her as she let go of his shoulder and picked up her sidearm from the table.

“Yeah, I know.” She holstered it, glancing one more time at the bunker door before she turned back to him. “But caring doesn’t win wars. We’ve got to be smarter than this. Quieter. While they’re busy worshipping their golden boy, we’re the ones getting shit done.”

Another explosion rocked the ground beneath them, closer now, shaking the walls. Harper’s face hardened, and she gave a nod toward the exit.

“Gear up. We’ve got work to do.” She nodded.

Will followed without question, his body sore, his mind sharp. Harper was right—this war wasn’t about prophecies or saviors. It was about surviving. And he’d follow her lead, wherever it took them.

As they stepped out of the bunker, the streets of war stretched ahead of them, filled with smoke and the distant sounds of gunfire. Their immediate goal was clear. Rendezvous with the rest of their team, the team Captain Harper was set to command. The two of them had been separated for a stealth op, slipping behind enemy lines to disable a Skynet communications relay. With that done, and a quick break for pleasure, they needed to regroup and prepare for the next assault.

“We need to get back to the unit,” Harper said, her voice low as they crouched behind a crumbling wall. “They’re probably bunkered down near the rendezvous point by now.”

Will nodded, adjusting his rifle. The two of them had worked well together, silently moving through the enemy territory, taking out the relay without alerting Skynet forces. It was only during their escape that they were caught by an unexpected T-2001 combat robot. The heavy armor had been difficult to take down, but they managed to disable the thing, but not without injury. The unexpected assault had left Will with a few deep cuts and some bruises, and his leg was hurting him, but the adrenaline was helping mask the pain. He didn’t want to show it, but Harper knew how much he was hurting, and she made sure not to put too much pressure on him, knowing his limits.

“They’ll be expecting us at the old Cookie factory, right?” Will asked, keeping his voice hushed.

“Yeah,” Harper replied, her eyes scanning their surroundings. “If they made it there without getting torn apart. We disabled the communications, so Skynet’s in the dark for now, hopefully giving them an easy route. But it won’t stay that way for long.”

The relay they’d taken out had temporarily jammed Skynet’s ability to track human movements in the area, but they both knew it was only a matter of time before the machines fixed the sabotage to their systems. They needed to link up with the rest of their division before Skynet’s forces figured out what had happened.

Harper took the lead, her body low, her gun ready, moving from cover to cover, and Will stayed close, his body aching with each step, but he kept his eyes on the lookout for any enemies. There was no telling when Skynet forces would catch up with them, or how far their communications jamming had gone. But there were no signs of Skynet troops. Just the usual destruction.

The streets were empty and abandoned, the buildings around them broken and crumbling. Debris was scattered across the road, and there were bullet holes and blast marks on the walls, signs of a recent fight. Some of the buildings were blackened from explosions, the windows boarded up, the doors locked; as if such simple defense would have saved anyone who lived here before.

Harper moved swiftly but carefully through the wreckage of the city, her sharp eyes scanning every corner. The old cookie factory wasn’t far now, just a few blocks. It was a decaying relic from the past, but its thick walls had become an impromptu stronghold for the remnants of their division.

Will gritted his teeth, pushing through the pain in his leg. The adrenaline was wearing off, and the throbbing ache was creeping back in. But he wasn’t about to slow Harper down. She needed him, even if she wouldn’t admit it. He knew how to fight through the pain, and in this world, that was all that mattered.

As they approached the factory, Harper held up her fist, signaling him to stop. She scanned the area, eyes narrowing at the dilapidated structure ahead. It looked empty, but she wasn’t taking any chances.

“Stay here,” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the distant rumble of explosions.

Will nodded, crouching behind a half-collapsed wall as she moved forward, her rifle raised. She was methodical, checking every corner, every shadow.

Harper moved with precision, slipping through the debris, closer to the broken cookie factory. As she neared the outer wall, muffled voices could be heard. She moved slowly, leaning against a crumbling wall, listening. Her squad was inside, but they weren’t discussing tactics or their next move. Instead, they were talking about her.