Forced Marriage: The Commander's Wife

Forced Marriage" The Commander's Wife: Episode 2

LUCAS’ POV

I don’t understand my wife.

Raven Blackwell is nothing like I expected. She’s not soft like Luna. She’s not warm. She doesn’t try to impress me or win my attention. If anything, she treats me like I’m just another man in uniform.

It’s irritating.

She moves with strange confidence—too steady for someone who claims to only handle paperwork. The way she wakes before dawn. The way she maintains posture even when relaxed. The way her eyes observe everything.

But she says she works under the General, assisting with administrative matters.

A secretary.

I should be relieved. I should be satisfied knowing she’s harmless.

And yet… something feels off.

She doesn’t argue much. She doesn’t cry. She doesn’t complain about the marriage. Most women forced into a situation like this would show something—fear, sadness, anger.

Raven shows nothing.

It’s as if this marriage doesn’t affect her at all.

That bothers me more than if she hated me openly.

And the worst part?

She doesn’t look at me the way Luna used to.

There’s no admiration in her eyes. No longing.

Just calm.

Controlled.

As if she’s the one studying me.

I don’t like it.

I don’t like that I can’t read her.

I’ve commanded battalions. I’ve faced enemies in war. I can predict movements before they happen.

But my own wife?

She’s a mystery I can’t seem to solve.

And I have a feeling…

I’m the one being underestimated

She thinks I don’t notice.

But I do.

Raven moves differently.

This morning, I found her in the garden behind the house. At first glance, it looked like simple exercise—stretching, light drills, controlled breathing.

But I’ve been on battlefields long enough to recognize trained movement.

She wasn’t just exercising.

She was positioning.

Her stance was balanced. Her weight shifted before every turn. Her eyes scanned her surroundings without being obvious about it. Even when relaxed, her back was never fully exposed.

That isn’t something you learn from assisting with paperwork.

I stayed behind one of the pillars, observing.

Then—

“If you’re going to observe,” she said calmly, not even turning around, “at least don’t hide behind the pillar.”

My jaw tightened.

She knew.

I stepped forward, crossing my arms.

“You move like a trained soldier,” I said.

She looked at me blankly. Too blankly.

“My father is a General,” she replied smoothly. “Discipline is normal in this household.”

That wasn’t what I meant.

“I’ve spent six years in war,” I said quietly, stepping closer. “I know the difference between someone who reads about combat… and someone who’s seen it.”

For a second—just a second—I thought I saw something in her eyes.

Not fear.

Not panic.

Calculation.

Then it disappeared.

“Maybe living under General Blackwell is war enough,” she answered lightly.

Deflection.

Clean. Controlled. Almost impressive.

“You’re hiding something,” I muttered.

She tilted her head slightly, calmly as ever.

“Aren’t we all?”

That response lingered longer than it should have.

She wasn’t flustered. She wasn’t defensive.

She was composed.

Too composed.

As I walked away, one thing became clear—

Raven Blackwell is not just a quiet daughter doing paperwork for her father.

There’s something beneath that calm surface.

And I don’t like not knowing what it is.

But strangely…

I want to find out.

I barely had time to process Raven’s words when my phone buzzed sharply in my pocket.

A message from the base.

My heart skipped a beat—not with fear, but with instinct. Years of war had trained me to respond instantly.

“Commander Smith,” the message began, formal and urgent. Northern sector. Unidentified armed movement. Priority Code Red. Immediate assessment required.

I cursed under my breath. On leave. But leave didn’t mean anything when the army called. Not for me.

I glanced at Raven. She was still standing in the garden, calm, composed… almost serene, as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

“You’re on leave,” she said lightly, noticing the change in my expression.

“So are you,” I said without thinking. My eyes didn’t leave the report. “But this can’t wait.”

For a brief moment, I saw something flicker in her gaze—a small, knowing glimmer. Almost like she was expecting this. Almost like… she knew exactly what I was about to do.

I grabbed my jacket and keys, already moving toward the door. “Five minutes,” I muttered under my breath. “We move in five.”

She raised an eyebrow. “We?”

I froze. Her calm, teasing tone hit me like a jolt. “You’re… staying?”

She gave me the smallest, almost imperceptible smirk. “Do you think I’d sit and do nothing while the army is mobilizing? I don’t need your permission to act.”

I stopped mid-step, suddenly aware that this marriage—and this woman—was far more complicated than I had assumed.

For the first time since the wedding, I felt a twinge of unease.

Raven Blackwell was a mystery.

And for all my experience on the battlefield… I had no idea what I was about to face.

By the time we reached the northern sector, I expected chaos. I did not expect this.

Raven was already on her phone, speaking to someone I couldn’t see. Her voice was sharp, precise, and authoritative. Commands were given, questions answered—everything handled with perfect control.

“Alpha team, report positions. Any movement?” she said calmly.

The responses came immediately, crisp and professional, but I couldn’t see a single person. There were no uniforms, no badges, no indication of who she was talking to. Only her voice, directing unseen forces.

“Bravo team, flank the east perimeter. Charlie team, hold at the checkpoint. Do not engage until I give the order,” she continued.

I stepped closer, trying to make sense of it. “Who… who are you calling?” I asked.

She didn’t even look up. “My team,” she said lightly, almost dismissively. “They know what to do.”

I froze. Her “team”? She didn’t show herself. She didn’t reveal ranks, names, or anything. All I had was her voice—and the unnerving certainty that she was in complete control.

I had no idea who she really was. How many people she commanded. Or how far her influence extended.

I froze as a new voice crackled through my earpiece.

“Commander Smith, follow protocol. Move to the eastern checkpoint immediately. Do not engage until instructed.”

I glanced around, confused. There was no one nearby giving orders. Only an unknown voice, calmly standing a few meters away, still on her phone, speaking to unseen subordinates.

“Who… who’s giving these orders?” I muttered under my breath.

The unknown voice didn’t answer me. She didn’t need to. The voice continued, crisp, authoritative, commanding me to follow precise movements.

I clenched my jaw. “I’m on leave,” I said, more to myself than anyone else.

“Leave revoked. The northern sector is compromised,” the voice replied.

Every instinct in me screamed that this wasn’t just a drill. Yet I couldn’t see who was speaking. All I knew was the voice belonged to someone—or something—that was running the entire operation flawlessly.

I glanced again. She was calm. Too calm. Her eyes didn’t betray a single hint of stress, or even surprise that I could hear this mysterious voice.

“Move,” the voice instructed again.

I swallowed hard. My hands tightened my equipment. I didn’t know who was ordering me, what they were capable of, or how they even knew my position—but I realized I had no choice.

The unknown voice's presence alone was enough to make me hesitate… and yet, I followed.

Step by step, I obeyed the unseen commands, aware that this unknown voice knew far more than she was letting on.

And for the first time, I felt completely out of control.

This unknown voice had created a battlefield I didn’t even see coming—and I had no idea I was already in the middle of it.

I moved quickly, following the directions from the unseen voice. Every step was precise—left flank, hold cover, advance slowly—but I had no idea who was actually giving the orders.

The unknown voice was still there, standing in the open, calm as ever, phone in hand, silently communicating with whoever was out there. She didn’t give me a single command. She didn’t even glance at me. And yet… everything was moving exactly as she planned.

“Commander Smith, adjust your position. East cover compromised. Fall back five meters, maintain line of sight,” the voice ordered.

I froze. Who was this? Some specialist? Another officer? And why did the instructions come through a channel I didn’t even recognize?

I gritted my teeth, moving as instructed, every muscle alert. My training kicked in automatically, but every instinct screamed that I was being manipulated… or tested.

This unknown voice speaks calmly presence unnerved me. She didn’t speak. She didn’t interfere. Yet somehow, she controlled the battlefield without exposing herself.

“Move faster! Enemy units approaching!” the voice barked.

I obeyed immediately, darting behind cover as instructed, my mind racing. I wanted to confront this unknown voice, demand answers—but I couldn’t. Not now. Not in the middle of this.

I realized, with growing frustration, that this unknown voice was the reason I had no control here. Every move I made, every decision I followed, was because of her.

And yet… I still didn’t know who she really was.

Not her rank. Not her skills. Not her team.

She was untouchable. Invisible. Mysterious.

And for the first time since our forced marriage, I felt… powerless.