He looked at Emma instead.
Blood had gathered at the corner of her mouth. One side of her face was already swelling. Her knees were wet with gravy and dirty water from the broken dishes. Still, the first thing she did was reach for the broom leaning against the wall.
Bear caught it before she could.
“No.”
Emma blinked at him.
“I have to clean this up.”
“Not today.”
Vance found his voice again.
“Master Chief, this is none of your business.”
Bear turned slowly.
“You made it my business when you hit a civilian employee in a room full of witnesses.”
“She assaulted an officer with a tray.”
A few men actually looked at the food on his sleeve.
Riley spoke from behind Bear.
“Your chair hit her.”
“Stay out of this, Petty Officer.”
“I was watching.”
Another SEAL nodded. “So was I.”
Then another.
Fifty men did not need to shout. The fact that they had all seen the same thing was enough.
Vance’s face changed as he understood that rank could control subordinates, but it could not erase memory.
“She should be grateful I don’t have her fired.”
Emma flinched.
That was the first thing Vance said that frightened her more than the blow.
She needed the job. The rent had risen twice since Daniel died. Survivor benefits covered some bills, but not enough to make a twelve-hour shift optional. She had learned to measure groceries by what could stretch through three meals. She had learned which lights she could leave off in winter. Losing the mess hall would not destroy her life, but it would make an already narrow life smaller.
Bear saw the fear.
“Emma,” he said quietly, “look at me.”
She did.
“You are not getting fired for being hit.”
Vance laughed again, but there was no confidence in it now.
