“I need to show you something.”
I moved to stand beside her, very aware of the scent of cedar smoke and autumn rain, of the way she held herself with perfect posture even when she was clearly exhausted.
“Here.” She pointed to the screen, showing Matthews’s approach from a different angle. “See how his weight is too far forward? That’s what made him aggressive instead of intimidating. He was off-balance, so he compensated by crowding.”
“The tactical flaw was in his stance.”
“Exactly. Which means the problem isn’t Matthews being too aggressive. It’s that the scenario setup is teaching bad form.” She pulled up the training parameters I’d written. “If we adjust the initial positioning here, and add a specific note about weight distribution, we can prevent this from happening with future trainees.”
I studied the screen, seeing immediately what she meant. The scenario was designed to teach verbal intimidation and de-escalation, but the spatial setup was forcing trainees into positions that felt unstable. Of course they’d compensate with aggression.
“That’s a good catch,” I admitted. “I should have seen that when I designed it.”
“Fresh eyes help. That’s why I always have someone else review my scenarios before I run them.” She pulled up a blanktemplate and started sketching out a modified layout. “What if we moved the initial positions here and here, with the defender starting at this angle?”
I leaned in to see better, and our shoulders brushed. She went very still for half a second, then deliberately didn’t move away. Like she was proving something to herself.
Or maybe proving something to me.
“That would work,” I said, forcing myself to focus on the tactical problem instead of how close she was. “Better sightlines, more stable positioning. The trainee won’t feel like they need to crowd to maintain control of the scenario.”
“Exactly.” She made the adjustments on the screen, her movements efficient and precise. “The problem with most tactical training is that it’s designed by people who’ve never actually had to de-escalate a real situation. They focus on dominance displays instead of practical positioning.”
“You sound like you’ve done this before.”
“I’ve redesigned half the emergency response protocols for three different counties.” She pulled up another file, showing me a previous scenario she’d modified. “Most of them were written by alphas who assumed physical intimidation was the same thing as tactical advantage.”
“It’s not.”
“No, it’s not.” She glanced at me, and there was something assessing in her gaze. “You get that, though. Most military alphas I’ve worked with don’t.”
“I had a good commander early in my career. He taught me that tactical advantage comes from positioning and information, not from who can posture the hardest.” I pointed to a section of her revised scenario. “This is smart. You’re forcing the responder to use verbal skills instead of relying on physical presence.”
“That’s the goal. Most real situations don’t need physical intervention. They need someone who can read the room and adjust their approach accordingly.”
We worked through the redesign for the next forty-five minutes, and I realized I was enjoying myself in a way I hadn’t in years. She challenged every assumption, questioned every tactical choice, and offered alternatives that were often better than my original design.
It was the most intellectually engaged I’d felt since leaving the military.
“What about secondary threats?” she asked, pulling up a different angle. “If we position the responder here, they’re blind to this entrance.”
“Good catch. We could add a partner protocol, have them work in pairs.”
“Or teach them to position themselves where they can monitor multiple entry points.” She sketched out a new positioning option. “Here. They can see both the civilian and the entrances, and they’re not blocking the civilian’s exit route if things go wrong.”
I studied her proposed solution and felt something shift in my chest. She wasn’t just competent. She was exceptional. And she thought like a soldier, saw tactical problems the way someone with real training would see them.
“You mentioned you considered enlisting,” I said carefully. “Why emergency coordination instead?”
She was quiet for a moment, and I watched her weigh how much to share. Finally, she said, “I wanted to help people. Thought the military was the best way to do that. But then I realized I’m better at systems than I am at following orders that don’t make sense.”
“Independent operator.”
“Is that what we’re calling it?” There was dry humor in her tone, but also something harder. Something that suggested she’d been called worse for the same quality. “Most people just say I’m difficult to work with.”
“Most people are idiots.” The words came out more vehement than I’d intended, and I saw her glance at me with surprise. “You’re not difficult. You’re competent. There’s a difference.”
“Not everyone sees it that way.”
