Chapter 184
Raven
The sunrise over the island was criminally beautiful.
We'd been marched out at 0500—because God forbid the military let anyone sleep past dawn—to what could only be described as nature's amphitheater. The clearing sat on a cliff overlooking the Pacific, surrounded by palm trees that swayed like they were auditioning for a Corona commercial. Wildflowers carpeted the ground in ridiculous shades of purple and yellow. Butterflies drifted past like they'd wandered off a Disney set.
Perfect place for a picnic, I thought, breathing in the salt air. Or a burial.
The other five candidates stood in a nervous cluster, muscles coiled, eyes darting. Katya kept rolling her shoulders. Ethan was doing that thing where he cleaned his glasses obsessively. Even the stoic ones—Connor and Jade—had that pre-combat tension humming through their frames.
I closed my eyes and tilted my face toward the sun.
"Beautiful morning," I said to no one in particular.
Katya shot me an incredulous look. "You're thinking about the weather?"
"Why wouldn't I? Look at this place. It's gorgeous. Shame we're going to bleed all over it."
"Jesus Christ," Ethan muttered.
General Reeves emerged from the tree line flanked by six heavily armed soldiers. He looked far too pleased with himself for someone who'd been up before the roosters.
"Good morning, candidates." His voice carried across the clearing like a bullhorn. "Welcome to the Arena."
Oh good. We're doing dramatic names now.
"Today's challenge is simple," Reeves continued, pacing before us like a gladiator master. "No Holds Barred combat. Full contact. You fight until your opponent is unconscious or surrenders. The only rule—" He paused for effect. "Try not to kill anyone. Try."
A muscle jumped in Connor's jaw. Jade's hands flexed into fists.
I examined a particularly vibrant blue butterfly that had landed on a nearby leaf.
"Any questions?" Reeves asked.
Han raised his hand. "What about weapons?"
"Excellent question, Han." Reeves's smile turned predatory. "If you can get your hands on a weapon—any weapon—then by all means, use it. No restrictions. No rules. No consequences."
Translation: We want maximum violence with plausible deniability.
"The brackets are as follows," Reeves announced, pulling out a tablet. "Katya versus Jade. Ethan versus Connor. And Raven—" His eyes found mine. "—versus Han."
The change in Han was instantaneous. His entire body went rigid, then began to vibrate with barely contained rage. He turned toward me slowly, neck cracking with each rotation, and his eyes...
Oh, Han's been nursing that grudge all night.
His face had transformed into something feral. The humiliation from yesterday—standing pantless in front of everyone—had clearly fermented into pure, concentrated hatred. I could practically see the revenge fantasies playing behind his eyes.
"Finally," he breathed, voice shaking. "Finally, I'll show you what a real operative looks like."
I was still watching the butterfly. It had moved to a different leaf, closer to me. Gorgeous creature. Probably a Blue Morpho, judging by the iridescence.
"Martinez," Reeves called. "Did you hear me?"
"Hmm?" I glanced up. "Oh. Yeah. Me versus Pyongyang's finest. Got it."
Han's face went from red to purple. "My name is HAN JI-WOO!"
"Right, right. Sorry, Han." I turned back to the butterfly. "Hey, General? Any chance we can speed this up? I'd really like to enjoy the scenery after. Maybe catch some of those tide pools down by the beach."
Katya grabbed my arm. "Raven, he's serious. He's going to try to kill you."
"I know." I gently shooed the butterfly away. "That's why I want to finish quickly. Murder takes time, and the morning light is perfect right now."
Reeves checked his watch. "Martinez and Han, you're up first. Take your positions."
The clearing had been marked with a rough circle of white paint—about thirty feet in diameter. Plenty of room to dance. Or die. Depending on your skill set.
Han stalked to his side, every movement deliberate and predatory. He stretched his arms, cracked his knuckles, rolled his neck. The whole performance. I half expected him to start doing push-ups.
I walked to my mark and... stood there.
No stretching. No warm-up. No combat stance.
Just me, hands in my pockets, looking at the horizon.
"READY," Reeves called out.
Han dropped into a fighting stance I recognized immediately—Juche-kyok, North Korean Special Forces combat system. Brutal, efficient, designed to kill quickly. His weight was perfectly distributed, hands positioned to strike or defend, eyes locked on my center mass.
Professional, I noted. Sloppy when he's emotional, but the training is solid.
I remained perfectly still, one hip cocked, still admiring the view.
"SET."
The air itself seemed to tense. Katya had her hand over her mouth. Ethan was scribbling in that damn notebook even now. Connor and Jade watched with the detached interest of people studying a textbook problem.
Han's pupils dilated. Adrenaline flooding his system. Muscles coiling like springs.
I yawned.
"BEGIN!"