Reyes didn’t answer immediately.

He kept looking.

The fabric had fallen just slightly out of place from the impact. Enough to expose a portion of skin where the shoulder seam had pulled.

And there it was.

A pressure imprint.

Old.

Faded.

But unmistakable.

The shape wasn’t random.

It wasn’t a bruise.

It wasn’t wear from gear.

Something that had once been there—firmly, consistently, for years.

A rank insignia.

But not one that belonged to someone like her.

Not even close.

Reyes swallowed.

“…That mark…” he murmured, barely audible.

The soldier next to him leaned closer.

“What about it?”

Reyes didn’t take his eyes off her.

“…That’s not from a private.”

The words barely moved.

But they traveled.

Not loudly.

Not all at once.

Like a ripple under still water.

A glance passed.

Then another.

No one spoke openly.

But something shifted.

Something subtle.

Something instinctive.

Ward remained still.

She didn’t fix her collar.

Didn’t cover the mark.

Didn’t acknowledge any of it.

Harris, unaware, stepped back slightly, squaring his shoulders like he’d made his point.

“Next time I correct you,” he said, voice sharp, “you respond. You adjust. You—”

He stopped.

Not because he chose to.

Because something didn’t feel right anymore.

The air had changed.

He couldn’t explain it.

But he felt it.

The line behind her—

It wasn’t loose anymore.

It wasn’t distracted.

It was… still.

Too still.

Harris glanced past her.

Just briefly.

And what he saw didn’t make sense.

Every soldier—every single one—had straightened.

Not casually.

Not gradually.

Instantly.

Spines locked.

Chins lifted.

Eyes forward.

Not in response to him.

He hadn’t given an order.

He hadn’t called it.

And yet—

They stood at attention.

Perfectly.

Silently.

Like something had been recognized.

Something that didn’t need to be said out loud.

Harris frowned.

“What the hell—”

He turned slightly.

No one spoke.

No one moved.

But the alignment was undeniable.

Uniform.

Disciplined.

Absolute.

And for the first time since stepping onto that yard—

Harris wasn’t in control of it.

He looked back at Ward.

She hadn’t changed.

Not her posture.

Not her expression.

But something about her—

It felt different now.

Or maybe it had always been there.

And he just hadn’t seen it.

“Relax,” Harris snapped, trying to reclaim ground that was already slipping. “Nobody gave that command.”

No one relaxed.

Not a single inch.

The silence deepened.

Heavy now.

Intentional.

Reyes shifted his weight just slightly.

His voice came low.

Careful.

Respectful.

“…Sergeant.”

Harris glanced back.

“What?”

Reyes held his gaze for half a second.

Then nodded—barely.

Not toward himself.

Toward her.

Harris followed the motion.