Then it disappeared.
“I don’t care who you claim your father is.”
“I’m not claiming anything.”
His jaw tightened.
“Move.”
Through the guard-station glass, I could see a telephone.
Less than twenty feet away.
One call.
That was all.
“Lieutenant, please. Verify my name.”
“I told you to move!”
I stepped backward.
Apparently not fast enough.
His hand came up without warning.
The slap snapped my head sideways.
My shoes scraped across the pavement.
I caught myself on one palm before my knees hit.
For a second, everything disappeared except the heat burning across my cheek.
Then I tasted blood.
I touched the corner of my mouth.
Red stained my fingertips.
Someone behind Miller inhaled sharply.
He looked down at me.
Smug.
Satisfied.
“You should’ve listened.”
Then he laughed.
Short.
Pleased.
I stood slowly.
