Chapter 107: Chapter 107: Hard Not to Love
Dane looked at the woman whose face was frosty, and the sarcastic remark at his lips was silently swallowed back.
She’s a sniper after all, jumping into the sea at the drop of a hat like she’s courting death, really embarrassing—makes all the men here look bad.
Renee Morgan didn’t look at him, just stared down at the high-power scope on her sniper rifle, found the position Jay Monroe had mentioned, and, ignoring distance or the risk of giving away her location, fired a shot straight away.
The shot didn’t hit anyone, but the sound of a sniper rifle—the kind reserved for specialists—echoed across the ocean and stirred up a storm.
Team Red scrambled to report to their higher-ups: Team Blue’s other sniper has appeared.
Everyone knew who this sniper was—Renee Morgan, a shooter whose skills rival Jay Monroe’s.
The gunner who just made legend in the previous round.
Dane watched Renee suddenly fire, his brows knitting tight. Was this really for Jay Monroe, risking her own—and her teammates’—safety?
The speedboats attacking Jay Monroe split quickly after a brief commotion, with two heading straight for Renee’s boat.
But Renee didn’t look at them; her sniper rifle was still locked onto the speedboats surrounding Jay Monroe. The instant the gunshot rang out, a wisp of pale smoke curled up from one of the distant boats.
Dane: "..." That far away? Most people can’t even see a target, and she got a headshot?
Dane wasn’t the only one shocked, so was Team Red.
At that distance? How could she possibly hit someone?
While they were stunned, four more people got their heads blown off in rapid succession.
Renee’s score announcement came through the comms, and the Team Red assaulters on the two speedboats got instructions from Command: assassinate Renee Morgan.
Assassination? Forget it. She’s right in front of them—let’s see how they get their heads blown off, too.
"Renee’s shooting is deadly. She’s a sniper, extremely alert. It’s tough to get close," said a lean man in a red uniform, staring at the man in the middle.
The others didn’t speak; their wooden faces had eyes that glinted with an extreme, icy calm—in contrast to the disorganized players, they all followed the man at the center.
The man in the middle stared into the nighttime gloom toward the rescue boat, impossible to see anyone clearly, a cruel grin flickering across his face. "Renee Morgan, huh?"
"Knock her into the water—feed her to the fish!"
The men had no objections to his insane command; faces lit up with excitement like zealots obeying some dictatorial lord.
Dane noticed something off about the approaching speedboat—this speed...
"Fuck fuck fuck!"
Dane felt his blood rush straight to his head. He grabbed Renee and pulled her to the front of the boat, shoving the pilot behind him.
He didn’t even have time to buckle his seatbelt, gripped the wheel, making Renee steady herself.
The Team Red speedboat barreled toward them, and Dane spun the wheel hard, drifting out of the way, dodging the impact.
Team Red chased them relentlessly.
Renee, gripping her sniper rifle, turned and aimed right at the Team Red pilot’s forehead...
"Bang!" The shot sliced across the water, barely audible over the crashing waves.
That shot was explosive, literally.
Chatroom audiences clutched their hearts, screaming silently—how the hell can this woman be so badass?!
Too cool!!
This kind of classic kill-shot, even in movies it’s hard to reproduce. How could they not love this woman?
The comms broadcast the report: "Team Blue sniper Renee Morgan scores one point. Total: 42 points."
Kennedy’s face turned steel-blue with rage, cursed, "Shit," shoved his people aside, and strode up to the bow, apparently about to take the wheel himself.
Meanwhile, Dane burst into Jay Monroe’s encirclement.
The surrounding speedboats all raised their guns toward them.
Renee put down her sniper rifle, reaching for Dane’s assault rifle.
"Borrowing this," she said.
She never lost her calm; with that heavy assault rifle in her hands, not a tremor, and when she fired, the recoil made the seat and her body shake, but her flawless face barely changed—she didn’t even seem to breathe differently.
Dane realized just then how light Renee seemed—was it just a woman’s touch, or...was it the same as her ability to see in the dark, trained since childhood?
Close-range combat—the assault rifle did its work.
Renee popped eight headshots in a row. The assaulter behind her stood up, indiscriminately spraying his rifle, scattering the surrounding boats into chaos.
Even though these were blanks, it still hurt—a bullet hitting skin feels like getting hit with a rock, and groans and cries weren’t uncommon.
Renee, aside from her helmet, took several hits herself, but the pain was still within her limits.
Dane’s rescue boat neared Jay Monroe’s vessel. Jay already knew Renee was coming, and jumped on board quickly.
Just then, a huge crash sounded—the boat behind rammed into them.
Dane spun the wheel fast, gunned the throttle, charged ahead—but still got hit at the stern, the whole rescue boat nearly flipped.
Dane’s practiced hands took the wheel, quickly breaking away from their pursuers.
Renee, Jay, and the other teammates finally slumped back against their seats in relief.
The boat docked at a deserted little island—the team stopped to regroup.
Jay jumped off first, heading up the shore, turned to talk to Renee, and his gaze landed on the man by her side.
The night was dark; he hadn’t paid attention to the "pilot" up front, and hadn’t realized such a striking face. Not that it compared to his own, of course—still miles away.
"..."
He eyed them suspiciously: "Renee, who’s this?"
Renee: "..."
Renee?
Since when were they so buddy-buddy?
Dane’s almost-too-perfect face glanced at Jay, half-smile, half-smirk, eyes flashing with mockery.
Renee ignored Jay’s address, stood in the middle, and introduced them: "This is Dane, our Team Blue assaulter!"
Whether it’s ’Da Ye’, ’Da Wild’, or ’Da Lord’, Renee honestly had no idea.
"Jay Monroe, sniper, my partner." She cut it short and sharp.
Jay guessed his identity, and hearing the name, his own expression shifted unpredictably.
Renee got pulled aside by him.
"Renee Morgan, how come you’re with Dane?" Jay looked grave.
Snipers and assaulters are different—most times, snipers act alone. Even in joint ops, there’s no need for close contact with other teammates.
How did they get so familiar, so fast?