The heavy oak doors of the Cook County family courtroom flew open, and my combat boots cracked against the marble floor like pistol shots. I am Lieutenant Commander Maya Sterling, and I didn’t have time for a wardrobe change. I marched straight down the aisle in full desert digital camouflage, a heavy Kevlar chest rig, and a high-tech ballistic helmet. Slung tightly across my chest was my M210 sniper rifle—cleared, chambered with a bright orange safety flag, but lethal in appearance.
My father, sitting at the front table, let out a smug smirk. My mother just buried her face in her hands and sighed, clearly mortified by what she deemed a “freak show.” They wanted custody of my fourteen-year-old brother, Toby, not because they loved him, but to control his multi-million dollar trust fund. To them, I was just the rebellious daughter who ran off to the military.
