Axton's eyes, sharp as a hawk, locked onto Ren's face. He didn't say a word, but the intensity of his stare was a physical force, pinning Ren in place. Rhys took in the chaotic scene beside him—the overturned bowl, the splattered soup on the floor, and the whimpering Stanley being tended to by a few other soldiers.
"What happened here, Sergeant?" Rhys's voice was low, authoritative.
Kael stepped forward, his body a subtle shield between Ren and Axton's line of sight. "Stanley was mouthing off. He got what he deserved."
"I see," Axton's voice was a low, dangerous rumble. He moved past Rhys, his gaze never leaving Ren. "And you, Renault. Is this your idea of behaving?"
Ren's heart hammered against his ribs. He felt Kael's hand on his back, a silent warning to stay calm. He knew he should apologise and diffuse the situation, but the words were stuck in his throat.
