Chapter 851
A dangerous excitement hummed in Melanie’s veins. She looked at Sloane Hawke’s face, which was a tight mask of suppressed fury. She saw not just an instructor, but a rival. A powerful woman who had been publicly slighted by the same man Melanie wanted.
An audacious thought took root in her mind. The enemy of my enemy…
Sloane’s anger, having no other outlet, was directed at the exhausted trainees. Her cold eyes swept over the group of “failures” like a whip.
She turned to Instructor Sharpe, her voice dripping with venom. “Restorative stretching? I don’t think so. What they need is to remember the taste of failure.”
She was openly defying a direct order from a superior officer who had just left. It was a breathtaking act of insubordination.
Sloane pointed a rigid finger at the muddy ground beside the trail. “All of you. Push-up position. You will hold it until I tell you to stop.”
A collective groan of despair went through the ranks. They were running on empty, their muscles already screaming. But no one dared to protest.
Instructor Sharpe hesitated, her expression torn, but Sloane was her direct superior. She had to comply.
Sloane’s gaze landed on Caroline, a cruel, vengeful pleasure lighting her eyes. “Especially you, Thompson. You love teamwork so much, don’t you? You can do O’Malley’s share as well. Double for you.”
The order was pure, undisguised malice. It was personal.
Brenna, horrified, tried to protest. “No, Instructor, it was my fault!”
Caroline placed a firm hand on Brenna’s shoulder, silencing her. She looked directly at Sloane, her own face a placid, unreadable mask. “Yes, Instructor.”
Her calm acceptance seemed to infuriate Sloane more than any argument would have. It was like punching a fist into a cloud.
Just as the trainees were about to drop to the muddy ground, a quiet voice cut through the tension.
“Instructor Hawke.”
K.C. Bell was standing behind Sloane. He had been there the entire time, just beyond the harsh white spill of the floodlights, waiting for exactly this kind of defiance. He held a tablet computer, its screen glowing in the night.
“Colonel Romero has just issued a written update to today’s training directive,” K.C. said, his voice completely devoid of emotion. “Effective immediately, all high-intensity endurance exercises must be followed by a mandatory period of restorative physical therapy. This is to prevent non-combat attrition.”
He held up the tablet. On the screen was a formal military document, complete with Jarrod’s digital signature and a timestamp. It had been transmitted through the secure command channel moments after the SUV pulled away.
It was Jarrod’s checkmate. He had anticipated Sloane’s defiance and had used the unassailable power of a written order to block her every move.
Sloane’s face went white with rage. She stared at K.C., speechless.
K.C. Bell added, his voice still a flat monotone, “The directive also specifies that Trainee Thompson, due to her demonstrated excellence in teamwork and load-bearing capacity during the march, is exempt from all further corrective actions tonight. She is, however, required to submit a detailed after-action report on the role of unit cohesion under extreme duress.”
It wasn’t just protection. It was a promotion disguised as a punishment.