Hayes did not look at her.

He stopped two feet in front of me and stood at attention.

Then, he raised his right hand to his brow in a crisp, formal salute.

“Colonel Rogers,” Hayes said, his voice echoing in the rafters.

I returned the salute, my hand touching the brim of my cover.

“Captain,” I said.

Hayes turned his head slightly to address the room, his eyes scanning the crowd of admirals and commanders.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Hayes said loudly. “You are looking at the wrong guest of honor.”

Michael took a step forward, his brow furrowed. “Captain, with respect, this is my promotion.”

Hayes ignored him, keeping his eyes on me.

“Three years ago, my team was pinned down in the Hindu Kush,” Hayes told the room.

The silence in the ballroom grew heavy.

Helen’s hand began to tremble, her champagne glass clinking against her gold ring.

“We were surrounded by forty enemy fighters,” Hayes continued, his voice vibrating through the quiet space.

He looked at the Navy Admirals in the front row.

“And the officer who disobeyed orders to pull us out is standing right here.”