He crossed to a sideboard, poured a glass of water, and set it in front of me. “You look about to faint, Captain Bellamy.”

I looked up sharply at the title. “How did you know my rank?”

“I recognized the posture,” he said, sitting beside me. “And the way you evaluate a room. 75th Ranger Regiment, before I took over my father’s company. I know a fellow officer when I see one. You run logistics?”

“Medical logistics,” I corrected, wrapping my cold, scraped hands around the glass.

He nodded. “I owe you an apology.”

“You didn’t know.”