I recited it in my head, the words forming a shield around my temper. “A fool shows his annoyance at once, but a prudent man overlooks an insult.”

Or in this case, a prudent woman.

I unclenched my jaw. I looked Mark dead in the eye. I didn’t step back. I didn’t look down. I just looked at him with a cold, flat stare that usually unsettled people.

But Mark was too drunk on his own ego to notice.

“Are you done, Lieutenant?” I asked softly.

“Just trying to help you save face, Jules,” he sneered.

Suddenly, the door at the front of the room—the one reserved for command staff—slammed open. The sound cracked like a gunshot.

“Room, ten‑hut!” a voice bellowed.

The laughter died instantly. The silence that followed was heavy, suffocating. The sound of a hundred bodies snapping to attention filled the air, the rustle of flight suits and the stomping of boots. Mark stiffened, his smirk vanishing, his eyes darting to the front.