Chapter 2 lexie
The alarm didn’t just ring.
It split my world in two.
Before it went off, I was just Lexie—daughter, friend, café regular, girl with ink-stained fingers and a habit of sleeping too late.
After it went off, I was Private Lexie Rowan, drafted nurse of the Southern Border War.
I stared at the ceiling for a long moment before forcing my hand out from under the blanket to silence it. The room felt colder than usual. Or maybe that was just me.
Sunlight filtered through pale curtains, turning dust particles into floating gold. My walls were still the soft lavender I’d painted them two summers ago. My bookshelf leaned slightly to the left like it always had. Everything looked the same.
Except for the letter.
It sat on my desk like it owned the place.
Cream paper. Black wax seal. The official crest pressed into it—half sword, half wing.
I already knew every word inside.
You are hereby drafted into medical service at the Southern Border…
My stomach twisted.
Today.
I swung my legs over the side of the bed and pressed my palms into my eyes until stars burst behind them. Maybe if I pressed hard enough, I’d wake up from this.
“Lexie, dear,” my father’s voice drifted up the stairs. “Breakfast is ready.”
His voice was steady. Too steady.
“I’m coming!” I called back.
I stood slowly and crossed the room, fingers brushing over my desk before I picked up the letter. The paper crinkled slightly where I gripped it too tightly.
Drafted.
Not volunteered.
Not requested.
Drafted.
I folded it carefully and slipped it into my bag.
If I was going to war, I was going to look it in the eye.
I dressed without much thought—purple short-sleeve shirt, fitted blue jeans, worn brown boots. Practical. Comfortable. Like I wasn’t about to leave home indefinitely.
I paused at my mirror.
I didn’t look like someone going to war.
My dark hair was still messy from sleep. My eyes—too soft. Too hopeful.
That would change soon enough.
When I walked downstairs, the scent of pancakes hit me first.
Mom was at the stove, flipping them carefully like they required full concentration. Dad sat at the table, his large hands wrapped around a chipped mug that read World’s Best Dad. His knuckles were white.
They both looked up when I entered.
There was a pause. A breath. A shared moment of pretending everything was fine.
“Sit,” Mom said gently. “Eat while it’s hot.”
I obeyed.
We didn’t talk much at first. The scrape of forks against plates felt too loud. Every second ticked like a countdown.
Finally, I cleared my throat.
“I was wondering… could I go see Mimsy? Just for a few minutes. I want to tell her goodbye in person.”
Mom’s lips trembled, but she nodded. “Of course.”
Dad looked at me over the rim of his mug. “Be back before the bus.”
“I will.”
I didn’t say the thing sitting heavy in my chest:
What if I don’t come back at all?
The bell above the café door chimed when I stepped inside.
Warm air wrapped around me, thick with the scent of coffee and cinnamon. It was louder than usual. Livelier. Like the world didn’t know it was ending for some of us.
“Lexie!”
Mimsy shot out of her chair and nearly knocked someone over in the process. Her dark curls bounced as she rushed toward me.
She hugged me tight. Too tight.
“You look pale,” she said, pulling back.
“Thanks.”
Her eyes softened. “You got the letter, didn’t you?”
I nodded.
That’s when I noticed the guy sitting at her table.
Blue hair tipped in blonde. Lean frame. Fingers laced casually with hers.
His eyes studied me like I was something interesting.
“I’m Vixen,” he said.
His voice was low—deep enough to vibrate in your chest.
I blinked.
Mimsy smirked. “See? I told you.”
“Told her what?” he asked lazily.
“That your voice sounds unfairly attractive.”
He chuckled, and somehow that made it worse.
“I’ve been drafted,” I said before I could lose my nerve.
Silence fell between us.
“When?” Mimsy asked quietly.
“Today.”
She swallowed hard. “Border?”
“Southern.”
Vixen’s posture shifted slightly at that.
“That’s near demon and vampire territory,” he said.
“I know.”
Mimsy grabbed my hands. “You better write. I mean it.”
“I will.”
But even as I said it, something told me letters would be the least of my worries.
Packing felt like betrayal.
Every folded shirt felt like an admission that I was really leaving. Every personal item I chose not to bring felt like abandoning a piece of myself.
Mom hovered in the doorway.
“Did you pack your medical tools?”
“Yes.”
“Extra socks?”
“Yes.”
“Warm jacket?”
“Yes, Mom.”
She nodded, then wiped her face quickly like she didn’t want me to see.
I crossed the room and wrapped my arms around her.
She was smaller than I remembered.
“I’ll write,” I whispered.
“You better,” she said thickly. “Or I will personally march into that war zone and drag you home.”
I laughed softly.
Downstairs, Dad stood waiting by the door.
“Be careful, Bear,” he said.
He hadn’t called me that in years.
“I always am.”
He pulled me into a crushing hug. For a moment, I was five again, hiding behind his legs.
“Watch out for Mom,” I murmured.
“We’ll manage.”
His voice cracked on the last word.
And then I stepped outside.
The bus stop was crowded.
Girls my age stood in small clusters. Some whispered. Some cried openly. Some stared straight ahead like soldiers already.
A girl with tan-purple skin and wide gold eyes waved at me.
“I’m Alice,” she said brightly, like this was orientation day instead of deployment.
“Lexie.”
“My mom tried to bar the door,” she admitted.
“Mine kept pretending I forgot something.”
Alice laughed softly. “We’re going to be best friends.”
“We are?”
“Yes. Trauma bonding requires commitment.”
Despite everything, I smiled.
The bus arrived in a cloud of dust.
We climbed aboard.
And home disappeared behind us.
The Southern Border Base stretched wider than I expected.
Tents lined up in rigid rows. Watchtowers stood tall and silent. Soldiers moved with purpose, boots pounding dirt.
The air smelled like metal and damp earth.
Alice leaned toward me. “I expected it to be darker.”
“So did I.”
The sky above us was painfully blue.
Inside the nurse tent, organized chaos greeted us.
A young nurse with sharp features glanced up. “New blood.”
“Talia,” an older woman warned. “Enough.”
She stepped forward. Strong posture. Steady eyes.
“I’m Niche. Head nurse.”
Something about her felt unshakable.
“We run stabilization before transport. You keep your head clear, your hands steady, and your emotions in check. Panic helps no one.”
I straightened instinctively.
This was real.
Captain Nathan introduced himself shortly after.
He paced in front of us, purple-black beard streaked like storm clouds.
“You are not soldiers,” he said. “But you will see the same horrors. Do your jobs, and you save lives. Freeze up, and people die.”
No pressure.
When he called my name for first load-out, my heart pounded so loudly I barely heard the rest.
The truck ride toward the active zone was quiet.
Until the first gunshot echoed.
Alice grabbed my sleeve.
“It’s okay,” I said automatically.
I wasn’t sure who I was trying to convince.
The war zone was not what I expected.
The trees were still green.
Grass still grew.
Birds still sang—until gunfire scared them into silence.
Then everything changed.
Soldiers flooded the clearing. Orders were shouted. Stretchers rushed in.
The first wounded soldier I saw couldn’t have been older than sixteen.
Blood soaked through his uniform.
“Pressure here,” Niche ordered calmly.
I pressed down.
Warmth flooded between my fingers.
My stomach lurched—but I didn’t move.
“You’re doing fine,” she said.
Somewhere to my left, a bullet tore through one of our supply coolers.
Water spilled across the ground.
“We’ll need another,” I muttered.
“The vampires have extra,” Niche replied.
Nancy snorted. “And who’s volunteering for that?”
I didn’t think.
“I’ll go.”
And just like that, my path changed.
The vampire territory felt different.
The air was cooler. Quieter.
Too quiet.
I hadn’t expected to survive the walk there.
But I made it.
And then soldiers grabbed me.
They dragged me into a tent lit by lantern glow.
“Captain, we found her near the perimeter.”
He turned slowly.
Long red hair. Black streaks. Skin pale pink under the light. Red eyes that missed nothing.
He studied me.
“Leave,” he told his men.
They obeyed immediately.
His gaze returned to me.
“You crossed into vampire territory,” he said evenly.
“Yes.”
“For what?”
“A cooler.”
Silence.
Then—unexpectedly—a faint curve of amusement touched his mouth.
“You risked your life… for a cooler.”
“It’s for blood storage.”
“I assumed.”
His eyes sharpened. “Name.”
“Lexie.”
He held my gaze a moment longer than necessary.
“Alastor,” he said finally.
The name settled in my chest like something important.
He led me to their medical tent.
A smaller girl with bright pink eyes hurried over. “Who’s this?”
“She needs supplies,” he said simply.
Destiny handed me an empty cooler without hesitation.
No hostility.
No threats.
Just… cooperation.
“Thank you,” I said quietly.
As I turned to leave, I felt his gaze on my back.
Measuring.
Curious.
Not predatory.
That unsettled me more than anything.
When I returned to our camp alive, Nancy stared.
“Well. I lost that bet.”
“I got the cooler,” I said, setting it down.
The next wave of injured arrived before I could rest.
Blood. Screams. Orders.
I worked until my hands were stiff.
At one point, Niche glanced at me and nodded once.
Approval.
I hadn’t realized how much I needed it.
Late that night, when the trucks finally carried the wounded away, exhaustion claimed us all.
“Sleep,” Niche ordered gently.
I collapsed onto a cot.
But as I closed my eyes, red eyes flashed in the darkness.
Alastor.
Enemy captain.
Vampire.
And the only reason we had enough supplies tonight.
The war had begun.
And somehow, I knew—
This was only the first thread in something far bigger than I understood.