Chapter 2

The woman slowly turned her face back toward him.
Her lip was bleeding.
Her cheek was already turning red.
But her eyes were calm.
Cold.
Steady.
The kind of eyes that did not belong to someone afraid of pain.
She wiped the blood with her thumb and looked at it for a second.
Then she looked at Mercer.
“You only get one chance.”
A few men shifted in their seats.
Mercer blinked.
Then he laughed.
“You threatening me?”
She said nothing.
Mercer looked around the bar, feeding off the attention.
“Everybody hear that? Some civilian girl walks into a military bar and thinks she can talk to me like that.”
The woman’s jaw tightened, but her voice stayed quiet.
“I told you to leave him alone.”
Mercer’s smile faded.
Behind him, at a small table near the wall, a young soldier sat with his head down.
Private Ryan Bell.
Nineteen years old.
Fresh out of training.
Too young to look that tired.
He had been the reason the woman spoke up.
Mercer had been humiliating him for twenty minutes.
Calling him weak.
Calling him soft.
Mocking the way his hands shook when he picked up his glass of water.
When the private said his older brother had died overseas, Mercer laughed and told him, “Some families just don’t produce fighters.”
That was when the blonde woman finally turned around.
She had said only five words.
“That’s enough, Sergeant.”
Mercer had walked over, asked who she thought she was, and when she refused to lower her eyes, he slapped her in front of the entire bar.
Now she stood there bleeding.
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And he still did not understand that he was already losing.
Read Part 3 to see what the old bartender noticed before anyone else did.