Chapter 830

Her words hit their mark. A low, resentful murmur went through the ranks.

Sloane’s smile widened. “Good. I like skepticism. In our world, blind obedience gets you killed.”

Her eyes, sharp as a hawk’s, scanned the formation.

“So, let’s play a little game.”

The murmur died instantly.

“I’m going to pick one of you,” she announced. “We’ll compete. One on one. Any event you choose.”

She paused, letting the weight of her words sink in.

“If I lose, I pack my bags, get in my car, and you will never see me again.”

A collective, sharp intake of breath. The audacity of the offer was stunning.

“But,” she continued, her smile turning predatory, “if I win… your training regimen for the next three months is doubled.”

A wave of pure terror washed over the squad. Doubled? They were already at their breaking point. It was a death sentence.

The trainees looked at each other, their faces pale. No one moved. No one spoke. The risk was too great.

Caroline stood rigid in the formation, her heart hammering against her ribs. She stared at Sloane Hawke, a war raging inside her. Part of her, the jealous, wounded part, wanted to know everything about this woman, to understand her connection to Jarrod. The other part, the trained, analytical part, screamed that this woman was dangerous. She was not a standard instructor. There was something more to her, something lethal.

Sloane’s gaze swept across the silent, fearful faces. It passed over Melanie and Blair with disinterest. It paused on Beatrix for a moment of consideration.

And then it landed on Caroline.

Her lips curved into a challenging smirk. She raised a hand and pointed directly at her.

“You,” she said, her voice ringing with authority. “Trainee Thompson. You look interesting.”

Sloane Hawke’s smile was sharp and bright and utterly without warmth.

“Let’s go.”

In front of the entire squad, Caroline was shoved into the spotlight, singled out by the one person in the world she wanted to both run from and destroy.

The words hung in the air, sharp and final. “Let’s go.”

A profound silence fell over the training field. The rhythmic panting of exhausted recruits, the distant hum of base activity, everything seemed to cease. It was as if Sloane Hawke’s challenge had sucked all the sound out of the world.

Every head turned. A hundred pairs of eyes, a mix of shock, morbid curiosity, and a cruel flicker of satisfaction, drilled into Caroline. She was the nail that had stuck up, and now the hammer was coming down.

Caroline’s blood ran cold. Her heart, which had been hammering against her ribs, suddenly felt like a lead weight in her chest. She stared at Sloane’s face — Elena’s face — the same challenging smile a perfect mirror of the one in the photograph. This wasn’t just an instructor establishing dominance. This was personal. Somehow, this was deeply personal.

Brenna, standing beside her, made a small, choked sound. She reached out, her fingers digging into Caroline’s arm with surprising strength.