Dalton blinked.
The words didn’t fully register.
“Protected operative?”
Chief Ramirez closed his eyes briefly.
Like a man watching a disaster become irreversible.
Then the gym doors opened.
Hard.
Three men entered almost simultaneously.
Civilian clothes.
Athletic builds.
No wasted movement.
No visible panic.
But every person in the room instantly understood these were not ordinary personnel.
The lead man scanned the gym once.
His eyes landed on Lena.
“You okay?”
Lena nodded once.
“I’m fine.”
Then his gaze shifted toward Dalton.
And the temperature in the room seemed to drop another ten degrees.
The man stepped forward slowly.
Not aggressive.
Controlled.
Professional.
Which somehow felt far more intimidating.
“Lieutenant Eric Dalton?” he asked.
Dalton tried to recover his authority immediately.
“You don’t walk into my training facility without identifying yourself.”
The man reached into his jacket and displayed federal credentials so quickly most people couldn’t read them.
But Chief Ramirez did.
And his face tightened instantly.
Dalton’s confidence cracked.
“NCIS?” he muttered.
“Special Agent Warren,” the man replied. “And right now, you should say absolutely nothing else.”
The room exploded internally with confusion.
NCIS?
Why would NCIS be protecting a Petty Officer?
But Lena still hadn’t moved.
She stood there calmly while blood dried faintly near her mouth like she’d experienced far worse than this.
Which, in truth—
she had.
Special Agent Warren looked toward Lena again.
“Did he strike you without provocation?”
Dalton immediately pointed at her.
“She was insubordinate. She challenged—”
“I asked her,” Warren interrupted coldly.
Lena’s eyes never left Dalton.
“Yes,” she answered.
That single word seemed to hollow the air out of the room.
Dalton suddenly realized this was no longer an argument between officers.
This was documentation.
Witnesses.
Statements.
Federal involvement.
And whatever authority he thought he had moments ago was disappearing rapidly.
The most important part is just ahead — click NEXT »»
