Chapter 1 - The Strike
Senior Chief Damon Kael hit Riley Voss before she finished saying his rank.
The sound cut across the dusty training yard so sharply that the operators behind him stopped breathing. Riley dropped to one knee in the sand, one hand braced against the ground, her dark hair falling loose from its tie. A thin line of blood touched the corner of her mouth.
Kael stood over her with his fist lowered, chest rising hard, rage still burning in his face.
“Drag her off my base,” he snapped.
Nobody moved.
Eighteen SEALs stood in formation under the harsh Coronado afternoon sun, men who had seen violence in places no one talked about at barbecues. But this was different. This was not a fight. This was not training. This was an instructor striking a twenty-two-year-old civilian combat specialist because she had embarrassed his favorite operator without raising her voice.
Riley spat a small line of blood into the sand.
Then she stood.
No stagger. No speech. No performance. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, looked at the blood on her knuckles, then locked eyes with Kael.
“I warned you, Senior Chief.”
Kael’s confidence flickered.
Behind him, Travis Webb’s face changed first. He had seen Riley move. He knew this was not bravado.
Kael stepped closer. “You think you scare me?”
Riley did not move.
“No,” she said. “I think you just made witnesses.”
A folder snapped shut behind the formation.
Captain Elias Morrow stepped into view, his face cold.
“Stand down,” he said. “Warcom wants her report.”
May you like
Kael went pale.
And Riley stood in the sand, split lip and all, completely unbroken.
