She tapped the screen to exit out of the classified tab, but the shining device was frozen. She tapped harder.

Loud footsteps sounded on the three small wooden steps into the building.

Romy stood to attention as three soldiers burst into the room.

“Where is it?” the front man demanded.

Wordlessly, Romy pointed to the table, to the unassuming failed permit. The second soldier stepped to one side. Her mouth dried as she saw the third soldier was Lucas.

“It is scanned?” the same man asked.

She nodded.

The second soldier snatched the document from the table while Lucas moved forwards to Romy's side at the computer. She sucked in a breath. Surely he wouldn’t do anything in front of the other soldiers.

She remained coiled as he turned to the device and ran a tag over the screen. Romy peered at the screen from the corner of her eye.

It was only brief. A new screen flashed.

It had categories just like the normal screen. But instead of the usual—construction, legal, environmental options—it read: sentry rosters, posts, weaponry.

She swallowed as Lucas brought up a screen reading, “Authorised to Continue?”

His dark gaze moved over her. “Wouldn’t want you reading anything you’re not supposed to.” The soldier flicked a glance to the two others. One had produced a box, and the document was now incinerating inside.

A hand brushed her chest.

Romy knocked his arm away with gritted teeth, and instead of stepping away, she leant in. His breath was foul, like his teeth were decayed. It suited his personality.

“Don’t touch me,” she hissed. “I know the law. You can’t touch me if I don’t want you to. It’s sexual assault. So. Back. Off.”

He laughed. And Romy rocked back at the genuine, sardonically amused sound.

“Officer Lawry, Officer Meaker. Kindly wait outside while I ask Ms Rosemary a few questions.” Lucas spoke over his shoulder without taking his eyes from her.

How could someone so dangerous speak with such politeness?

They left without a word, closing the door of the storage room behind them, and cold sweat ran down her spine.

She gasped as Lucas clutched a fist of her hair so tightly her eyes watered. “Let go!” She reached back and took hold of his hand, attempting to free the strands from the agony of his grasp.

“Sexual assault?” he snarled. “You don’t know anything about sexual assault.” He smirked down at her. “Not yet.”

She tried to turn her face away, but his grip in her hair was too firm. She brought her hand down and struck out blindly, connecting with something bony. Pain shot through her wrist.

Lucas grunted and reached for her wildly striking hand. He caught her hand and wound it behind her back. Romy cried out from the pain in her shoulder.