Chapter 861

The cold water soaked through their uniforms, plastering fabric to skin, leeching the warmth from their bodies.

Melanie began to shiver, from cold, from rage, from defeat. She looked at Caroline, who stood perfectly still, her face turned up to the rain, her expression unreadable.

“You think you’ve won, Ma’am?” Melanie hissed, twisting the title into a curse, her voice a low, venomous whisper. “What does it matter if he protects you? He’ll never look at you the way he looks at her. You’ll never be more than a replacement. You’re nothing compared to Instructor Hawke.”

She was trying to gut Caroline with her deepest insecurity.

Brenna started to snarl a reply, but Caroline stopped her with a subtle shake of her head.

Slowly, Caroline turned her head to look at Melanie. She saw the pathetic, shivering figure, the face contorted with a hateful, desperate jealousy.

There was no anger in Caroline’s eyes. Only a vast, weary pity.

She spoke, her voice quiet, but it cut through the sound of the falling rain with perfect clarity.

“Maybe,” she said.

The simple, unexpected agreement stunned Melanie into silence.

Caroline held her gaze for a long moment, then delivered the final, devastating blow.

“But looking at you now, I’ve learned one thing.”

“Your jealousy,” Caroline said, her voice soft and final. “It makes you ugly.”

She turned her face back to the rain, straightened her spine, and stood like a statue in the storm. The mud, the blood, the pain, it all seemed to wash away, leaving behind a core of pure, unbreakable clarity.

The cold rain finally stopped.

A thick, heavy silence descended upon the muddy field, broken only by the ragged sound of three women breathing. Melanie Thorne’s shivers were audible, a rhythmic chattering of teeth born from cold and humiliation.

Instructor Sharpe checked her watch, her face impassive. “Punishment complete. Proceed to the mess hall.”

The words were a pardon. Melanie stumbled, her legs barely holding her. She shot a look at Caroline, her eyes filled with a venom so pure it was almost a physical force. It promised retribution.

The path to the mess hall was a short walk of shame for Melanie. The warm lights and the distant, savory smell of hot food were a paradise she felt she was crawling toward. She deliberately slowed her pace, falling into step beside Caroline and Brenna.

Her voice was a low, conspiratorial hiss, just loud enough for the trainees nearby to catch fragments.

“You know, Thompson, I almost feel sorry for you.”

Brenna tensed, ready to snap, but Caroline’s hand on her arm was a silent command to stay still.

“All this effort,” Melanie continued, her tone dripping with fake pity. “And for what? Colonel Romero doesn’t care about you. He’s just using you. A little toy to make Instructor Hawke jealous.”

Brenna made a choked, furious sound. “You shut your mouth, Thorne.”

Caroline didn’t even look at her. She kept her eyes fixed on the mess hall doors, treating Melanie’s words like buzzing insects, annoying but harmless.