He didn’t want a fight.
He wanted a performance.
More specifically, he wanted my humiliation.
My name is Colonel Claire Bennett.
I was forty-two years old.
I had spent more than twenty years in the United States Army.
I had led soldiers in places most Americans would never be able to point to on a map. I had heard rounds crack past my head, slept beside armored vehicles in freezing mud, written letters to parents whose children were never coming home, and made decisions in darkness that still visited me years later.
I had served alongside Rangers.
Later, I commanded them.
But nobody on Juniper Hollow Drive knew much about that.