Chapter 2

Elara POV

No one answered.

Only the howling wind of the snowy peaks echoed through the comms.

Dante frowned slightly, turning up the volume. "Elara, are you still throwing a tantrum?"

I floated right beside him, watching his sharply defined fingers gripping the microphone.

I wanted to tell him I wasn't throwing a tantrum.

I was just hanging from a tree, my windpipe completely pierced by a branch, unable to make a single sound.

When no response came, Julian let out a scoff. "Great, the princess attitude strikes again. She's probably sitting in the snow right now, waiting for us to carry her back."

Cassius's face darkened. "Ignore her. Today is Serena's birthday, why should everyone revolve around her?"

The helicopter touched down smoothly at a heavily guarded luxury safe-camp in the snowy valley.

This was the celebration spot they had chosen long ago. Tents, a roaring bonfire, fresh flowers, and even a windproof champagne tower were already set up.

They stepped out of the chopper, laughing and talking. The pilot collected the rest of his hush money and immediately flew the helicopter back to the base.

Standing in the biting blizzard, Dante pulled out his phone. He opened my chat and sent a voice note.

His tone was stiff and cold, giving me a ten-minute ultimatum to walk back to the camp.

"If we don't see you in ten minutes, we're leaving you right here," he warned coldly.

Serena walked up to him, cautiously tugging at his sleeve. "Dante, is Elara really mad at me? Actually, I think the joke went a little too far..."

Dante immediately held her hand in return, his expression softening instantly.

"Don't worry about her," he reassured her softly. "She's just using this trick to fight for my attention."

I watched their intertwined fingers, my heart completely devoid of any ripples. I wasn't shocked, nor was I angry; there was only a profound, deathly numbness.

If it had been in the past, hearing those words would have kept me awake all night in sadness.

I would have reflected on whether I was truly being unreasonable. I would have explained to him over and over again that I wasn't trying to fight for favor.

I was just genuinely terrified.

Three years ago, the Syndicate was ambushed by a rival cartel high in the treacherous border mountains.

The deafening crack of gunfire exploded from every direction.

Cassius and Dante instantly flanked Serena, using their own bodies to tightly shield her fragile frame.

They sprinted toward the extraction point without a single backward glance, leaving me entirely behind at the rear, all alone.

A stray bullet shattered the rocks near my feet.

I lost my footing and tumbled backward off the jagged cliff.

My fingers desperately clawed onto a thick, rough tree root jutting out over the abyss.

Beneath my feet was a pitch-black, bottomless drop.

I hung there in mid-air, screaming until my voice gave out.

It wasn't until the next morning that the Syndicate's search team finally found me. By the time I was pulled up, my fingers were mangled and bloody, and I was in a coma from a severe fever.

When I woke up in the underground clinic, only Julian was in the room, frantically mashing buttons on a handheld video game.

But Cassius and Dante weren't there at all; they were in the next room.

Just because Serena had caught a chill and developed a mild fever, they stayed up the entire night, holding her hand in deep anxiety.

"Elara, can you watch your step next time?" Julian complained. "You just had to fall off a cliff at a time like this, ruining everyone's sleep."

From that day forward, I developed severe acrophobia and Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD).

Even just standing on a second-floor balcony would make my whole body tremble and break out in a cold sweat.

But they never believed it was a real illness.

In their eyes, it was just a manipulative trick—a pathetic act I put on to gain sympathy and steal the spotlight from Serena.

Back in the camp, the bonfire was roaring.

Cassius brought out an elaborate fondant cake with the number '22' in glowing candles.

"Serena, make a wish."

Serena pressed her palms together and closed her eyes, the candlelight reflecting softly on her flushed cheeks.