Chapter 826

Brenna’s eyes narrowed. “What mistake?”

“Leaving witnesses behind.”

Melanie’s nostrils flared. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Caroline took one small step forward. Not toward the door. Not toward the showers. Toward Blair.

Blair stiffened.

“Blair Knight,” Caroline said softly, almost conversationally. “You really should be more careful about who you let speak for you.”

The name landed with surgical precision. Blair’s face tightened.

Melanie scoffed. “She’s trying to scare you.”

“No,” Caroline said. “I’m trying to save her.”

For the first time, Melanie looked uncertain.

Caroline’s gaze stayed on Blair. “Your father has spent years building a spotless reputation with Defense procurement. Clean contracts. Clean donations. Clean photographs at charity galas.”

Her voice lowered. “A barracks assault allegation tied to a hazing pattern would be inconvenient. Especially if it made people ask why his daughter keeps attaching herself to women who leave bodies and broken careers behind.”

Blair’s smirk died completely.

The room went still.

Brenna stared at Caroline. Beatrix, sitting on her bunk with one ankle crossed over the other, lifted her eyes with cool, sharp interest.

Melanie’s face flushed. “You don’t know anything.”

Caroline finally turned to her.

“Don’t I?”

Two words. Quiet as a blade sliding free.

Melanie’s throat worked.

Caroline let the silence stretch just long enough to make it hurt.

“West Point sealed your disciplinary report,” she said. “That doesn’t mean it disappeared.”

Blair’s head snapped toward Melanie.

Melanie went white beneath the red flush of rage.

“You lying little bitch,” Melanie whispered.

“Careful,” Caroline said. “That sounded dangerously close to forgetting the word Ma’am.”

Melanie’s mouth opened. No sound came out.

Caroline stepped back, giving them room to breathe, to panic, to turn on each other in the privacy of their own heads.

“This is how tonight is going to work,” Caroline said. “I am going to stay here. In this room. With witnesses. Brenna is going to pick up her laundry. Beatrix is going to keep pretending she isn’t enjoying herself. Blair is going to think very carefully about whether loyalty to you is worth becoming your next shield. And you, Melanie, are going to walk away before you make another mistake your uncle can’t bury.”

Brenna’s mouth fell open.

Beatrix’s lips curved by the smallest, cruelest fraction. “For the record,” she said dryly, “I am not pretending.”

A sharp, startled laugh escaped Brenna before she could stop it.

The sound broke something.

Melanie’s humiliation, already raw from the track, curdled into a darker, uglier thing. She looked at Blair, expecting support.

Blair did not move.

That hesitation was small.

It was also fatal.

Melanie saw it.

The alliance between them didn’t break aloud. It cracked in silence, which was worse.

“Fine,” Melanie said, her voice shaking. “Hide behind your little secrets, Thompson.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” Caroline corrected.

Melanie’s eyes burned. For one terrible second, it looked as if she might lunge anyway, broken hand and consequences be damned.

Then Blair grabbed her by the elbow with a quick, nervous motion. “Come on.”