“E-Elena?” he stammered, stepping into my path, his hand instinctively reaching out to grab me again. “What is this? Is this some kind of sick joke? You’re wearing a stolen uniform! That’s a federal crime!”
He lunged forward, his large hand grabbing the lapel of my dress jacket. The physical contact was a massive mistake. Years of elite hand-to-hand combat training kicked in on pure instinct. I grabbed his wrist, twisted it sharply until he let out a strangled yelp, and drove my elbow hard into his sternum, knocking him entirely off balance. He crashed into the mahogany doors with a loud thud, gasping for air.
“Don’t you ever touch me again, Captain,” I said, my voice dropping to a lethal, authoritative whisper. “And you will address a superior officer with the proper respect.”
The military police officer who had blocked me earlier came running over, his hand resting on his service weapon. “Hey! What’s going on—” He stopped dead in his tracks. His eyes widened at my three stars. He immediately snapped his heels together, his hand shooting up in a rigid, trembling salute.
