“Let go.”
His grip hardened.
“You don’t order me around.”
A few feet away, someone stopped whispering.
A folding chair scraped against the ground.
Jessica felt the ceremony changing around them.
Not stopping yet.
But bending.
People sensed conflict before they understood it.
Crawford leaned closer.
His breath carried coffee, peppermint, and something older.
Something sharp.
Jessica recognized it instantly.
She kept her expression blank.
“Captain,” she said, “release my arm.”
He laughed.
That laugh reached farther than he intended.
A Marine standing two rows away frowned.
Another turned completely around.
Crawford noticed the eyes on him.
Instead of backing down, he seemed energized.
“You walk in here dressed like this and expect nobody to ask questions?”
Jessica said nothing.
He lifted his chin.
“Where’s your rank?”
“In my patrol cap.”
His eyes flicked toward the folded cap beneath her other arm.
“That’s convenient.”
“It’s regulation.”
