Chapter 862
That utter dismissal was the final insult. But before Melanie could escalate, another figure emerged from a crossing path, her movements silent and predatory.
Sloane Hawke.
She had heard the last part. The two names that mattered most to her in the world: Romero and Hawke.
Her steps halted. Her gaze, cold as a winter sky, swept over the three of them. She walked directly to Melanie, who immediately morphed into a victim.
“Instructor,” Melanie whined, her voice trembling. “I was just trying to comfort her.”
Sloane ignored her pathetic performance. Her eyes locked on Caroline, filled with a hostile, dissecting curiosity. It was the look of a scientist studying a particularly resilient bacteria.
She turned to Instructor Sharpe. “Thorne and O’Malley can proceed to the mess hall.”
Sloane paused, her gaze returning to Caroline, lingering like a physical weight. “Thompson stays. Her discipline is lacking. She requires additional training.”
“But she already completed the punishment!” Brenna cried out, horrified, her injured right hand clutched protectively against her chest, the bulky white cast and sling a stark testament to Melanie’s cruelty.
Sloane’s head snapped toward her. “Are you questioning my order, O’Malley?”
The threat in her voice was absolute. Brenna fell silent, defeated, wincing as a fresh wave of pain pulsed through her shattered hand.
Melanie shot Caroline a triumphant, hateful smirk before limping away. Brenna followed, cradling her broken right hand, every step sending a dull throb up her arm. The warm glow from the mess hall, the promise of food and rest, felt like a world away, a life Caroline was being denied.
Sloane watched them go, then turned her full, chilling attention to Caroline.
“Equipment room,” she commanded. “You will carry every fifty-pound sandbag to the center of the training field. You will have it done before I return.”
It was calculated starvation. A brutal, physical punishment on top of an already exhausted body, designed to break her.
Caroline looked at Sloane. The mud, the cold, the exhaustion, it all seemed to fade away, leaving a core of pure, unyielding steel. This time, she would not comply.
Her voice was calm, steady, and devoid of any emotion. “Instructor, under Article 93 of the Uniform Code of Military Justice, cruelty and maltreatment of a subordinate is an offense. I respectfully refuse this order.”
The air crackled. Sloane stared at her, genuinely stunned. A trainee, a nobody, quoting military law to her face.
Caroline pressed her advantage, her voice remaining level. “I request to make a formal complaint regarding your conduct directly to the base commander, Colonel Romero.”
Sloane’s shock melted away, replaced by a slow, cruel smile. This was perfect. Better than she could have planned. She believed Jarrod would make an example of this insubordinate trainee, right in front of her. He would have to. It was a matter of discipline.
“Excellent,” Sloane purred. “I’ll take you there myself. I can’t wait to see how the Colonel handles a trainee who openly defies an order.”
She grabbed Caroline’s arm, her fingers digging in like talons, and began to half-drag her across the base toward the command building.