Chapter 1 - The Weight of Steel
The marble hall fell into dead silence.
Every eye in the grand ballroom was fixed on Commander Victoria.
She stood motionless, her hand held high in a crisp military salute.
The scar tissue on her shoulders burned beneath the fabric of her gown.
Standing before her was General Vance, the most powerful man in the defense ministry.
His expression was unreadable as he slowly returned her salute.
Guests whispers rippled through the elite crowd like dry leaves in a storm.
"Look at her back," a woman in diamonds sneered.
"A true soldier wouldn't wear such ugly trophies to a state gala," another muttered.
Victoria’s jaw tightened, but her gaze never wavered.
She knew these aristocrats had never spent a single night in a war zone.
They didn't know the smell of burning fuel or the sound of exploding artillery.
"At ease, Commander," General Vance finally spoke, his voice deep and commandingly cold.
Victoria slowly lowered her arm.
"It seems you survived the outer rim skirmish, Commander," Vance said, stepping closer.
"Survival was the only option, sir," Victoria replied quietly.
"Is that so?" Vance asked, a sharp glint appearing in his eyes.
"Then explain why your official log states your entire squad perished."
Victoria froze.
A chill ran down her spine faster than a bullet.
"That is incorrect, sir," she said, her voice dropping an octave.
"I brought every single one of my crew back alive."
General Vance pulled a folded document from his dress jacket.
He didn't hand it to her.
He simply held it up so she could see the red seal.
It was a classified casualty report signed by the High Command.
"According to this official record, Commander Victoria died three days ago," Vance whispered.
Victoria felt the floor beneath her boots—now hidden under satin—begin to slide away.
May you like
"And the men you claim to have saved?" Vance added, leaning in.
"They never existed."
