Sterling turned slowly, deliberately, toward Chloe.

She was trembling. The bottle slipped from her limp fingers and shattered, splashing red wine across her white heels.

“Did you…” Sterling’s voice was a low, terrifying rumble. He raised one finger toward her. “…just strike a General Officer of the United States Armed Forces?”

“She — she’s just my sister,” Chloe stammered, backing away, eyes wide. “She’s a dropout! My dad said she was a junkie! She’s a nobody!”

“She is your superior!” Sterling roared, loud enough that the front rows flinched. “She is a two-star General! And forty-eight hours ago, while you were getting your hair styled for this circus, she took a round through the shoulder pulling my son out of a kill box in the Kush Valley!”

A collective gasp sucked the air out of the room.