For several seconds, neither of us backed down. I was faster and stronger than she had probably expected. But she was infinitely more experienced than I had ever realized.
I finally managed to catch her arm. I planted my feet and forced her backward, pinning her against the center of the training mat. For a brief, triumphant moment, it looked like I had regained control.
"You were saying?" I breathed heavily, tightening my grip on her wrist.
She looked at me with that same unnerving calmness. "You're making the same mistake again. You rely entirely on aggression. Just like you did in the valley."
My blood instantly ran freezing cold. The valley.
Before I could comprehend how she knew about Sandstorm, she suddenly reversed her position. She twisted her wrist in a highly specific, complex locking maneuver, stepping behind my lead leg. She swept my feet out from under me with devastating force. I lost my balance completely and hit the floor hard. The impact knocked the breath out of my lungs in a sharp rush.
The room erupted with shocked murmurs.
I scrambled back to my feet, my chest heaving. My face had changed. The arrogant anger was gone, replaced by a sudden, intense confusion. The arrogance was still lingering somewhere deep inside, but now there was something else behind it. Respect. And a deep, unsettling frustration.
"You're better than you look," I said, wiping a line of sweat from my chin.
She answered without hesitation, adjusting her collar. "And you're exactly as reckless as you look."
That specific insult was enough to push me over the absolute edge. I charged again. This time, the fight became significantly faster. I stopped holding back. I used every advanced technique I knew. I managed to gain a slight advantage, slipping past her guard and forcing her backward, finally pinning her against the edge of the heavy equipment table once more.
For a second, everyone in the room thought the fight was finally over. I looked over my shoulder at the watching recruits with a confident, breathless expression.
But Sarah simply waited. She found her opening in the slight shift of my hips. With one blindingly quick movement, she dropped down, escaped my grip entirely, and delivered a sharp palm strike to my chest that sent me stumbling backward across the room. I barely caught my footing.
The soldiers watching could hardly believe what they were seeing. Their top instructor was being systematically dismantled by the quietest person in the room.
I wiped my mouth and glared at her. "You're not going to stop, are you?"
"No," she said evenly.
"Neither am I."
We faced each other again, the air crackling with heavy tension. But before either of us could move a muscle, a loud, commanding voice echoed through the gym.
"Enough."
Every single person in the room turned toward the doorway.
Director Vance stood there. He was an older man with sharp features and perfectly groomed silver hair. He was wearing his impeccably tailored civilian suit, but he carried the undeniable posture of a senior military officer. His expression was deadly serious, his eyes locked onto the scene in the center of the room.
The room instantly became so silent I could hear the faint hum of the ventilation system. The recruits snapped to attention. I immediately straightened my posture, my heart hammering against my ribs.
Vance walked slowly onto the red mat. He didn't look at me. He looked directly at Sarah. To my absolute astonishment, Director Vance—the man who owned Blackwood, the man who answered to nobody—raised his hand in a crisp, flawless military salute.
"Colonel," Vance said, his voice completely devoid of its usual warmth.
My face changed instantly. The bottom dropped out of my stomach. I stared at Sarah, my mind struggling to process the word. Colonel?
Vance turned his sharp gaze toward me. "I suggest you release your aggressive posture immediately, Elias."
I quickly lowered my hands, stepping back and snapping to attention. "Sir, I..."
"And choose your next words very carefully," Vance interrupted, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper.
I swallowed hard, the metallic taste of adrenaline thick in my mouth. I looked at the woman standing across from me. "I didn't know."
Sarah calmly adjusted the sleeves of her uniform. She didn't look angry. She just looked incredibly disappointed.
"No," she said. "You didn't."
She walked slowly toward me, stopping just inches from my face. I could see a small, jagged burn scar on her left wrist, partially hidden by her watch, exposed when her sleeve rode up.
"And that's exactly the problem, Elias," she continued, her voice low enough that only Vance and I could hear. "You made your decision before you knew who I was. You react to what you see, not what is actually happening. It’s why you failed your men."
I stared at her, feeling a hot wave of shame and defensive anger wash over me. My pride still refused to let me completely back down, even in front of Vance.