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The heavy canopy of the Haicheng wilderness filtered the afternoon sun into jagged shards of light. Donovan Tang reached out a gloved hand, grabbing Chloe Bishop by the shoulder of her tactical vest and pulling her firmly behind him. His voice carried the weight of a battlefield command.
"You have the best aim," he stated, his tone brooking no argument. "Stay directly behind me."
Chloe blinked in surprise, her rifle lowered for a second. She looked at the broad, rigid back of the man she used to call "Big Brother." Donovan had left for the elite special forces ten years ago—long before she had ever even picked up a competitive pistol. How does he know my marksmanship is top-tier? she wondered. Had he been watching her from the shadows of his military career all this time?
Lyra, standing a few feet away, let out a screech of pure indignation. "Hey! What about me? Where do I go?"
Donovan spared her a brief, sideways glance, his expression as flat as a bayonet. "You’re point. Take the vanguard."
Lyra’s jaw dropped. She gestured wildly between Chloe and herself. "Let me get this straight. You put the crack shot safely behind you, and you send the girl who can barely hit a barn door to lead the charge into an ambush?"
Donovan didn't blink. "The marksman protects the unit’s primary firepower. The amateur’s job is to draw out the enemy’s muzzle flashes so we can pinpoint their location. Sacrifice the few to save the many. You’ll be dying for a noble cause."
Lyra’s face turned a brilliant, humiliated shade of crimson. "Donovan Tang! You’re abusing your power! You were always biased when we were kids, and ten years in the army hasn't changed a damn thing!"
Chloe and Bella couldn't hold it in anymore. They doubled over, their laughter echoing through the quiet trees. Donovan watched the way Chloe’s face lit up when she laughed—a rare, bright spark in the cold life she now led as a Grayson. For a moment, his stern military mask softened, his eyes lingering on her with a longing he couldn't quite suppress. He heard the faint rustle of leaves in the distance, his instincts screaming that an ambush was set, but he remained still, anchored by the sight of her.
"I’ve had enough!" Lyra fumed, pointing a finger at Donovan. "If you force me to be the sacrificial lamb, I’m defecting! I’ll join Sarah’s team. She actually has a heart! You’re just a—"
Pop! Pop!
Two green paintballs exploded against Lyra’s chest. She froze, looking down at the splattered neon goo in utter disbelief before her eyes rolled back and she collapsed onto the grass in a dramatic, "dying" heap.
Chloe laughed so hard she lost her balance and sat down right on the forest floor. "Lyra, you—"
Thud.
Chloe felt a sharp impact against her own shoulder blade. A burst of yellow paint bloomed across her back. She froze. Seriously?
Bella and Mr. Han barely had time to raise their weapons before—Pop! Pop!—they were tagged as well.
In less than sixty seconds, Donovan was the last man standing against Sarah’s entire five-person squad. Outnumbered and exposed, his team was wiped out before the "official" start had even been called.
The Law of the Jungle
Mrs. Han emerged from the thicket, clutching her rifle and grinning like a schoolgirl. "Haha! What were you all discussing that was so funny? Tell us so we can enjoy the joke too!"
Lyra, still sprawled on the ground, gasped out her final "dying" words. "You... you cheated! We hadn't even shouted 'start' yet!"
Sarah stepped out from behind a massive oak tree, looking every bit the cool, professional commander. She walked over and hauled Lyra to her feet by the back of her vest. "From the second you stepped into these mountains, the game was live. Donovan knows that better than anyone. An enemy isn't going to send you a formal invitation before they open fire."
Lyra hung her head in genuine shame. She had forgotten who she was playing against.
Arthur Vance began to walk toward Chloe to help her up, but Donovan was faster. He stepped in, his hand gripping Chloe’s arm and hoisting her up from the grass with a single, effortless pull. He turned to Sarah, his face a mask of iron once more. "Again."
Sarah nodded. "Again."
The teams separated and vanished back into the brush. After the humiliating loss of the first round, the playful energy had vanished. Donovan radiated a lethal, predatory aura that made even the trees seem to shiver. Lyra didn't dare complain this time; she followed his hand signals with terrified precision.
The mountain wasn't large, and both captains knew the terrain well. Strategies were formed in seconds. Donovan remained "un-gentlemanly," sending Lyra out as bait once more. While the enemy focused on "killing" the loud, frantic Lyra, Chloe and Bella moved into sniper positions, providing cover for Donovan and Mr. Han to flank the perimeter.
As predicted, Lyra "died" almost immediately, her face turning green with fury as she was tagged out. But the strategy worked. Ten minutes later, the comms crackled with the victory signal. Donovan’s team had eliminated Sarah’s squad. As he had promised, Lyra’s sacrifice had paved the way for a total wipeout.
Two rounds in, and the score was a dead heat.
The competition is heating up, and the old bonds of the "Iron Brotherhood" are being tested. But as Chloe prepares for the tie-breaking round, she notices a figure watching from a high ridge—a man in black tactical gear who isn't wearing a team color. Xavier Grayson is no longer just watching; he’s calculating.
Will the next shot come from the "enemy" team, or from the husband who refuses to let his wife play in another man's shadow?
Should Chloe use the final round to prove her independence to Xavier, or will she need Donovan's help to survive the "Demon CEO's" interference?
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