Chapter 34: The Breaking of the Major

Sterling looked around the circle. He saw Stitch, the youngest among them, standing with his chin tucked, ready for a fight. He saw Miller, the most cynical NCO in the company, nodding in agreement. Most importantly, he saw James, who was no longer looking at the ground, but was standing shoulder-to-shoulder with his men.

"This is mutiny," Sterling hissed.

"No, Sir," James said, stepping forward. His voice was calm, but it held the weight of a landslide. "This is a unit. You wanted to know about the cohesion of my command? You’re looking at it. These men aren't standing here for a 'witch.' They’re standing here for their medic. For their sister. For the soldier who carries the weight when they can't."

James looked Sterling dead in the eye. "If you take her, you’re going to have to take the rest of us, too. Because I won't lead a platoon that’s had its heart ripped out for the sake of your 'paperwork.'"

Sterling looked at the helipad, then back at the wall of dusty, tired, and determined faces. He was an officer who lived by optics, and the optics of court-martialing an entire elite platoon for defending a decorated soldier were a nightmare he couldn't survive.

"Fine," Sterling spat, shoving the transfer orders into James’s chest. "She stays. But when this goes south—and it will—it’s your head on the block, James. Not mine."

He pushed through the crowd, his boots kicking up dust as he stormed toward the waiting Black Hawk.