A few of the candidates shuffle their feet. They feel it now, the wrongness of this. This isn’t a drill. This is something else, something that lives in the gray space between training and outright hazing. But not a one of them says a word. In this world, you don’t question a senior officer during an active instruction. It’s the fastest way to get your career packed in a duffel bag and shipped home before it even starts.

“Attack formation,” Lang says, his tone as casual as if he were ordering a cup of coffee. “I need eight volunteers. Eight men to help Captain Hayes understand what sustained pressure feels like in a combat environment.”

For a heartbeat, nobody moves. You could feel the wrestle in the air—duty versus conscience. Then, one by one, eight men step forward. Some of them hesitate, their faces tight with conflict. Others stride out with a little too much eagerness, seeing a chance to look good, to show the Colonel they’ve got what it takes.