Then ten.
Then twenty.
The impacts multiplied until the drill pad seemed to tremble.
All ninety-two exhausted men lowered themselves onto the scorching asphalt.
“What the hell are you doing?” Hayes demanded.
Nobody answered.
Then ninety-two voices hit the air together.
“Two hundred and one.”
Something surged through Sarah.
She pushed through clenched teeth.
Centimeter by centimeter, her shaking arms straightened.
Ninety-two soldiers rose with her.
“Two hundred and two!”
The count slammed against the barracks walls.
Sarah lowered herself again.
So did they.
Hayes stared at the platoon he had spent nine weeks teaching to obey instantly—and watched every soldier deliberately accept the punishment meant for her.
His jaw tightened.
He stepped forward.
Sarah started pushing again as ninety-two voices prepared to count.
Then Hayes suddenly raised one hand.
“Platoon—” 👇
“Platoon – hold.”
Ninety-three bodies froze inches above the asphalt.
Sarah’s arms trembled so violently she could barely keep her elbows from collapsing. Sweat fell from her chin and darkened the pavement beneath her face.
Hayes stared at the line of soldiers behind her.
“Recover.”
Nobody moved.
His voice sharpened.
“I said recover.”
