Chapter 856

Only Caroline remained a machine. Her rhythm was unbroken, her form perfect. Her steady endurance was a silent, infuriating testament to her strength, and to Melanie, it felt like a personal insult.

All of Melanie’s humiliation, her failed ambition, and her physical pain coalesced into a single point of pure, distilled hatred. It was all Caroline’s fault.

On her next frog jump, Melanie “lost her balance.” She stumbled sideways, landing far outside her designated punishment zone and right next to Brenna.

“Thorne, get back to your area!” Instructor Sharpe yelled.

Melanie ignored her. She pretended to struggle to her feet, her movements placing her directly over Brenna, who was straining to push herself up from the gravel, her hands flat on the ground.

Melanie looked down at Brenna’s right hand, at the splayed, vulnerable fingers. A vicious, predatory light gleamed in her eyes.

She lifted her foot.

And brought the steel-toed heel of her combat boot down with all of her body weight.

There was a sickening, muffled crunch of bone giving way.

Brenna screamed. It was a raw, piercing sound of pure agony. She collapsed, clutching her hand to her chest, her face contorted in a mask of pain. The back of her hand was already beginning to swell, a dark, ugly bruise blooming under the skin.

For a heartbeat, the world stopped.

Caroline heard the scream. She heard the sound of the bone. She whipped her head around.

She saw Brenna’s tortured face. She saw the triumphant, sadistic smirk on Melanie’s lips before it could be wiped away.

Something inside Caroline’s head snapped.

A white-hot, primal rage erupted from the black hole in her chest, a volcanic force that vaporized all training, all control, all calculation.

She exploded from the ground. Her movement wasn’t human; it was the fluid, lethal launch of a predator.

Melanie didn’t even have time to register the threat. One moment Caroline was on the ground, the next she was there, a silent fury in her eyes.

Caroline didn’t waste breath on words. She drew back her right fist and threw a perfect, devastatingly powerful straight punch directly into Melanie’s face.

The impact was a wet, solid thud.

Melanie’s head snapped back. Blood erupted from her nose as she was thrown backward, landing in a heap on the gravel.

“Thompson! Stand down!” Sharpe shrieked, stunned by the sudden, brutal violence.

But Caroline wasn’t listening. She was on top of Melanie in an instant, straddling her, her fists a blur of motion.

Melanie screamed and fought back, clawing and kicking. They rolled in the dirt, a tangle of limbs and fury. It was no longer a military exercise. It was a street fight, raw and savage.

Instructor Sharpe moved to intervene, to pull them apart.

“Sharpe. Hold your position.”

The voice was Sloane’s. It was calm, quiet, and utterly chilling.

Sharpe froze, turning to her superior. Sloane stood with her arms crossed, watching the brawl with a look of detached, morbid fascination. A small, sick smile played on her lips.

“Let them fight,” Sloane said.

Sharpe stared at her, horrified. “Instructor, they could kill each other!”