Slowly.
Controlled.
Beside him, Riley—a twenty-four-year-old point man with a lethal reputation—rose from his chair.
Then another man stood.
Then another.
Fifty chairs scraped backward across the linoleum almost together.
Vance’s grin disappeared.
He stepped back, one boot crushing scattered peas.
“Now—hold on. She was out of line. It’s discipline—”
Nobody answered.
They simply stood.
A wall of tan camouflage and absolute silence.
Bear began walking toward the center of the room.
With each step, Vance’s confidence seemed to drain away.
“Lieutenant.”
Bear’s voice was low.
“Do you know whose wife you just put your hand on?”
Vance blinked.
His eyes moved from Bear to Emma.
“W-wife? She’s just a server—”
Bear crouched beside her.
The same scarred hand capable of violence became unexpectedly gentle as he helped Emma to her feet.
As she rose, a thin silver chain slipped from beneath her collar.
Two Navy SEAL dog tags dropped into view.
The mess hall became so quiet the refrigerators in the kitchen could be heard humming.
Bear looked directly into Vance’s eyes.
“That’s Daniel Cole’s widow.”
Then his gaze hardened.
“And you have exactly ten seconds to understand…” 👇
Bear did not finish the sentence right away.
