They mocked her civilian attire and even threw water in her face inside a military courtroom, dismissing her claim of being a sniper—until the presiding admiral suddenly stood, saluted her, and silenced the room in an instant.

They had operated in a region where maps blurred into speculation and rules were more suggestion than law. According to the official reports, everything had gone exactly as planned. According to Mara, it hadn’t.

Commander Rourke stopped pacing and turned toward her, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Ms. Vance,” he began, his tone polite in a way that felt rehearsed, “you’ve testified that you were present during the operation on March 22nd, positioned approximately eighteen hundred meters from the primary engagement zone. Alone. In low-visibility conditions.”

“Yes,” she said.

Her voice was calm. Not defiant, not hesitant. Just… steady.