They ordered her to remove her jacket before the entire battalion, expecting to humiliate her publicly.

He moved down the line slowly, inspecting each soldier with practiced precision, his presence alone enough to tighten shoulders and sharpen focus. When he reached Mira Larkin’s position, he stopped.

There was nothing visibly wrong with her. Her uniform was correct, her stance flawless, her expression neutral.

And yet, something about her still didn’t belong.

“Lieutenant Larkin,” he said, his voice carrying across the formation.

“Yes, sir.”