Chapter 8 - THE SHADOW OF SPECIAL PROJECTS
Sergeant Major Reed stepped off the reviewing stand, his heavy combat boots clicking rhythmically against the blacktop as he marched down the steps. He picked up Brock’s fallen cover from the asphalt, dusted it off with one sharp strike against his thigh, and stopped directly beside the kneeling officer.
"Get up, Commander," Reed said in a low, dangerous tone that didn't carry to the ranks.
Brock stumbled as he pushed himself up to his feet, his hands trembling. His uniform was stained with black road dust, his hair messy, his polished image completely destroyed.
"Sergeant Major..." Brock stammered, his voice cracking. "Who is she? What is her actual assignment?"
Reed looked at Brock with a cold, unpitying stare. He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping so low only Brock could hear it.
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"Fifteen years ago, Commander, when you were sitting at a desk in San Diego writing training manuals, Captain Hayes was leading black-budget interdiction teams through the Hindu Kush," Reed whispered. "She has three Navy Crosses locked in a vault in Langley that you will never have the security clearance to see. You didn't strike a staff officer today, Sullivan. You struck the most lethal hand-to-hand instructor the Special Warfare Command ever produced."
Brock’s knees visibly buckled. He looked back at Avery, horror dawning across his pale face as he finally understood why her stance had been so impossibly balanced, why her grip had felt like hydraulic steel, and why she hadn't flinched when he struck her.
