“I’d run behind that tight specimen of female biology any day.”
He was mouthing off again. He didn’t think she could hear him, but her hearing was better than most. He would have to be broken today in a very open and public way.
That was the problem with being a female officer in the Queen’s royal army. This problem was only magnified by the fact that she was the captain of the Queen’s personal guard. There were so many male soldiers with egos bigger than the palace itself. What’s more, nearly all of them were gunning for her position.
Sloan was in command of a dozen of the most skilled and deadly warriors New Hope had to offer. She had earned all of their respect by defeating them in one-on-one combat. She would trust any one of them with her life and she knew they wouldn’t hesitate to do the same. The problem wasn’t with her own men. The problem lay with the rest of the palace guards, especially those new to the grounds.
All the officers and soldiers trained in the same outside facility. Whenever there were new faces at the palace, the same thing was bound to happen. It almost seemed like clockwork and it had become something of a tradition. It was inevitable that a soldier would step out of line. Sloan was always more than capable of putting them right back where they belonged, even adding a broken bone or two, or three or four for good measure.
Today Sloan was leading her men in combat and conditioning drills. The outside training ground was ideal, with a track around the perimeter and every piece of exercise equipment anyone could want. It was while on a run around the track, with the sun at its peak, that things finally came to a head.
Sloan was in the lead, sweat pouring from her forehead and down her toned, athletic back. It was the eighth lap around the track. She was proud her men were keeping pace. Her group was passing another large regiment of palace guards on the same track when it happened.
Sloan was focused, looking only ahead when she heard yet another comment from the same soldier. He had used varying degrees of inappropriate and vulgar sayings before, but it was this one that stopped Sloan in her tracks.
Sloan stopped and looked at the soldier. He was running in formation with the group parallel to her and her men.
“What did you say?”
“Oh, you heard me?” The large man and his friends chuckled as they came to a stop. “I was just admiring the view as you passed.”
More than one of her warriors took a step forward. Sloan raised a hand, stopping them in their tracks. She looked the man up and down. He was tall and large. Clearly, this individual was victim to growth hormones and too many hours lifting weights. It was obvious this gave him a false sense of security, that he was somehow better than everyone else and could say whatever he wanted without repercussions. Sloan knew his type too well.
“Why don’t you say it a little louder?”
The soldier looked confused, with a raised eyebrow and stupid grin.
“Come on. You didn’t seem shy just a second ago.” Sloan raised her hands and yelled across the training grounds. “I’m sorry to disturb your routines, but I need everyone here now.”
Within seconds, every soldier recognized who was talking. They immediately ran to obey.
Sloan turned to the large, confused man. “You and your little friends must be new here. I’ll break this down for you and try to use small words so you can keep up. I don’t want to ever hear you talking to me or any other soldier like that again. If I get wind of you harassing anyone else, I’ll make sure you spend the next few months drinking out of a straw. Do you understand?”
The man’s face transitioned to a picture of anger and humiliation. It was clear he wasn’t used to being spoken to so harshly, especially by a woman.
“Soldier, I asked you a question. If you have something to say, say it now—not later to your friends or as I run by.”
There were stifled laughs by other soldiers. That only infuriated the giant of a man more. “You’re obviously an officer here. I’d be a fool to say anything else, but that I understand.”
Sloan nodded. “Well, you’re not as much of an idiot as I thought you were. But with that said, I think we can use this opportunity to instruct the men in a little hand-to-hand combat. Would you mind volunteering for a sparring session?”
The crowd cheered as the bulky man accepted and stepped forward. Sloan caught sight of his PT fatigues, his ranking, and name. “Thank you, Sergeant Harrison. You must be new to the palace. Straight from the city guard, correct?”
Sergeant Harrison walked toward her with his wide chest puffed out. He looked down at her and grinned. “Yes, that’s right.”
“Well, I’m sure that everyone is eager to see what combat techniques are currently being used in the city guard. Shall we?” Sloan asked all of this with a grin. To all those unfamiliar with her, her smile seemed nothing but genuine.
Sergeant Harrison chuckled and rolled up the sleeves on his black PT shirt, revealing even more of his enormous arms. There was a cheer from his friends and shouts egging him on from the gathered crowd.
“One minute. I give him one minute.”
“No, look at the size of him.”
“You remember what she did to the last one?”
Sloan ignored the clamor. She readjusted the ponytail holding the honey-blonde hair out of her face.
“Are you sure you want to do this? I mean, I’d hate to bruise such a pretty face.” Sergeant Harrison rolled his neck from side to side.
“Enough talking.” Sloan stepped in, arms up. “Let’s see how all those genetically engineered muscles do in an actual fight.”
The two combatants stepped forward. The sergeant, both in height and size, dwarfed Sloan. He stood half a foot taller and easily outweighed her by a hundred pounds, but none of this seemed to faze the captain of the Queen’s guard.
The crowd cheered as the gladiators circled one another. Sergeant Harrison still smiled. “Listen, I think it’s cute you want to assert authority, and I get it, but—”
She was so fast, no one saw it coming, least of all her opponent. Sloan launched herself in the air, right arm cocked back. With all of her weight channeled into her fist, she punched forward as she collided with the sergeant’s nose. Blood flew through the air, splattering Sloan. Crimson droplets sprinkled the ground around her.
Sergeant Harrison staggered back, eyes stinging. The crowd roared. Sloan was on Harrison before he could recover, with shots to his jaw and temple. Harrison did his best to shield the blows, his vision limited through the blood squirting from his nose. Then, as soon as the fight started, it was ended.
Harrison managed to gather himself enough to launch an offensive attack. Huge arms swung wildly toward her. Sloan sidestepped the clumsy barrage and turned her hips, sending her left foot into the side of Harrison’s right knee. There was an audible crunch. The big man went down as his kneecap shattered in a half dozen different pieces.
The roar from the men gathered was deafening. Harrison was on the ground moaning, clutching his knee.
“Get him to the infirmary.” Sloan motioned to Harrison’s friends, who stood, opened mouthed. “Unless any of you have some cute comment to make about how I run.”
Fear touched their eyes. “Oh, no, Ma’am, you run fine. Like any one of us—I mean, like a normal soldier.”
Sloan ignored them as she walked back to her men, standing ready to congratulate their leader.
A young palace messenger pushed through the crowd and saluted, trying to fight back curiosity and ask what happened.
“Yes, what is it?” Sloan asked.
“The Queen requests your attendance, Ma’am.”
“What for?”
“I’m not sure, but she asked you come as soon as you can.”
Sloan nodded as she walked through the gathered crowd, not one of the soldiers in New Hope’s military daring to lower their eyes past her shoulders.
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