Slade noticed patterns.

That was what made him dangerous.

He noticed when someone started favoring one leg.

When a rifle was cleaned twice instead of once.

When someone stopped sleeping properly.

And, eventually, he noticed her.

At first, it looked like she was simply becoming reckless.

Missing small details.

Arriving late to briefings.

Getting into arguments with teammates.

Taking unnecessary risks during training.

Ignoring orders she normally followed without question.

Every time, Slade punished her.

Extra drills.

Suspension from the next operation.

Equipment restrictions.

Being pulled from field assignments.

And every single time, she accepted the punishment without complaint.

That was what bothered him.

She never argued.

Never defended herself.

Never asked for another chance.

She just took the bench.

Then, somehow, a few days later, she’d do something else stupid enough to get benched again.

One of the men eventually noticed.

“Boss, you ever think she’s doing it on purpose?”

Slade looked up from the report.

“What?”

The man shrugged.

“She keeps getting herself pulled from missions.”

Slade stared at the paperwork.

Then at the schedule.

Then at her disciplinary record.

A pattern he’d somehow overlooked became painfully obvious.

“She wants out.”

The man frowned.

“Then why doesn’t she just ask?”

Slade’s expression hardened.

“That,” he said quietly, “is what I’m going to find out.”

Months passed before he finally understood.

It wasn’t insubordination.

It wasn’t laziness.

It wasn’t that she’d suddenly stopped caring about the team.

She was burned out.

Completely.

She’d been running herself into the ground for months, sleeping poorly, pushing through training, taking every assignment handed to her, and refusing to admit she couldn’t keep doing it.

And instead of coming to her commanding officer and saying she needed a break—

she’d sabotaged herself.

She’d gotten punished because punishment was easier than asking for help.

Slade was furious.

Not because she’d disobeyed him.

Because she’d been exhausted enough to think she had to earn permission to stop.

He found her in the training room that evening.

She was already working again.

Of course she was.

Slade stood in the doorway.

“Drop it.”

She stopped.

He walked closer.

“How long?”

She didn’t answer.

Slade’s jaw tightened.

“How long have you been doing this?”

Silence.

He looked at her equipment.

Then at the dark circles beneath her eyes.

Then back at her.

“You’ve been trying to get yourself benched.”

Nothing.

“You could’ve told me.”

Her expression remained guarded.

Slade exhaled through his nose.

“You thought I’d call you weak.”

He shook his head.

“No.”

His voice became quieter.

“I would’ve called you human.”

That finally seemed to hit.

Slade stepped closer, taking the equipment from her hands.

“You’re done.”

She immediately reached for it again.

He pulled it away.

“Not negotiable.”

He turned toward the door.

“You’re off the roster for the next two weeks.”

He paused.

“And before you decide to get yourself punished again just to make that happen…”

Slade looked over his shoulder.

“Next time, you come to me.”

He left the room carrying her equipment.

For once, she wasn’t being punished.

She was being benched.

And Slade intended to make damn sure she understood the difference.