OPERATION WINTERSPINE (Strings Between Us Book 2)

CHAPTER THIRTY SIX: OF SHIELDS, SWORDS, AND CHAOS UNLEASHED

Another rushed forward—I kicked him hard in the chest, knocking him down. I stepped on his chest and pressed my blade against his throat again. The other blade leveled at the man charging us.

"One wrong move, and I'll drive my blades straight through your hearts," I said, ice-cold, voice steady despite the adrenaline roaring in my ears.

Gasps rippled through the crowd.

"Two blades?" someone whispered.

"She knows how to draw swords too?" another asked.

And then Lyle's voice echoed across the dome through the internal intercom, strong and commanding.

"Tri-Havoc. You're the only Court members who made it inside before the seal activated. That dome is your battleground now. Protect the hostages. Estimated intruders: 100. Repeat,100."

Saichel chuckled darkly, the crackling of his wires punctuating the sound. "We've handled hundreds before. This is a piece of cake."

A student near the bleachers gasped, choking out, "This isn't like the airsoft manhunt... this is real. We're going to die..."

Xythe's voice sharpened like a blade. "We never said that was airsoft."

Silence slammed down again.

Panic rippled through hundreds of students, dozens of teachers—all frozen by fear. The rapid intake of breaths, the soft sobbing, the shuffle of feet on concrete—all fused into a tense symphony of dread.

Headmaster Antonio stood in the VIP section with other VIPs from different schools. All of them were stunned too. Fear and panic writhed on their faces like shadows in flickering light.

I inhaled deeply. Then I asked the question burning in my chest—the one that froze the entire dome:

"Are we allowed to kill?"

Silence swallowed the arena.

A ripple passed through the crowd — whispers clipped off, as if even words might earn a bullet.

One of the gunmen's eyes twitched. His grip tightened on the trigger.

All of us waited.

Because right now, I want to kill the gunman pointing a gun at KD.

Saichel laughed. "Uh-oh. You pissed off the princess with blades."

"Focus, Saichel," Xythe snapped.

Lyle's low chuckle crackled through the comms, then he addressed the real decision-maker:

"Headmaster Antonio. Your call. Ardent Court is under your command—for now."

"Did you just say Ardent Court? The Executioners?" one armed man hissed, voice low but laced with disbelief.

"You know us?" Lyle's voice came through the comms, amused and calm, clearly monitoring from a satellite feed.

"You're Celestine's assassin group," another armed man muttered, eyes narrowing as tension thickened the air.

"Assassin?" Seb's voice cut in sharply over the intercom, dripping with disdain. "Don't call us that. We're not assassins."

The word assassins sparked a ripple of gasps and murmurs through the crowd. Eyes widened, whispers spreading like wildfire as everyone turned to look at us with a mix of awe and fear.

"To be fair, Seb," Alexie's tone was teasing but firm. "We kinda are assassins. Depends on the mission we're assigned to."

The armed man who spoke earlier swallowed hard before asking again, voice edged with a mixture of fear and confusion, "What are you doing here in Supreme Allievo Academy? You're supposed to be in Celestine Ardent Academy."

Lyle's laugh was cold, echoing ominously through the dome's speakers. "Good question. Because apparently, Supreme Allievo Academy is under the protection of the Ardent Court."

He let the words hang a moment, then drawled with finality, "And unlucky for you, you're facing our first line of defense."

Then Headmaster Antonio spoke. "What would Lazaro say if asked the same question?"

Xythe answered instantly, "Save the civilians. Kill if you must."

The Headmaster took a breath, then nodded solemnly:

"Then I give the same order. Do what you must. Protect our students and visitors."

A heavy pause.

Then Lyle's voice returned, louder, final:

"To everyone inside the Arista Dome—students, teachers, visitors—listen closely. You are under the protection of Tri-Havoc. From this moment on, everything you witness is classified. Why? Because you're about to witness the real Ardent Court in action."

That was the cue.

My pulse steadied into that dangerous, razor-thin calm—the one that comes right before chaos.

Artemis slid into my palms with a whisper of steel, the twin blades locking into place with a satisfying click. The electric crackle from Saichel's wires flared hotter; Xythe's scope angled a fraction, his breathing slowing into sniper rhythm.

Three heartbeats. That's all it took.

The air shifted. The crowd didn't notice it, but we did—the faint stretch of silence just before the world tears open. My boots bit into the floor as I moved, cutting through the noise of panicked breaths and shuffling feet.

In my ear, Xythe's voice was the last tether: "On my mark."

Saichel's grin sharpened. Blue lightning spidered up his arm, dancing hungry between wire and skin.

I exhaled, cold and steady.

The mark came.

And Tri-Havoc stopped being three students.

We became the storm.