The Naval Amphibious Base gym was always chaos—weights clanging, boots pounding, voices barking—but when Petty Officer Reed opened his mouth, arrogance cut sharper than any weapon.
“Are you deaf, old lady? Move it.”
Evelyn Harper didn’t flinch. She swept the mats in slow, deliberate strokes, a quiet precision honed over years of doing the work that no one notices but everyone depends on. Dust formed neat lines under her broom.
Reed, muscles taut and Trident badge gleaming, leaned closer. “I said move. Go clean a trash can. We need this space.”
Evelyn straightened, calm and unshaken. Her mid-twenties face held none of the fear he expected. She met his gaze steadily.
“This floor needs to be swept. Dust affects breathing,” she said finally.
Reed barked a laugh. “The janitor is giving performance advice! Adorable.” He reached toward her head, but she didn’t move. When he shoved the broom, it clattered, but Evelyn picked it up gently, revealing a tattoo at the base of her neck—a coiled serpent wrapped around a trident.
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