Chapter 142: Under the Moon, a Drastic Change in Dog’s Nature

Chapter 142: Chapter 142: Under the Moon, a Drastic Change in Dog’s Nature

This time, Renee didn’t need Dane to snap her awake with his army knife. She uncapped her water bottle, poured cold water onto her hands, and slapped her face hard a few times. Only after she’d slowly cleared her head did she wipe her face clean with a handkerchief.

Dane was waiting for her at the doorway. Renee checked her sniper rifle, patted the army knife at her waist, and made sure everything was in order before following him out the door.

At the entrance, the team leader and Jay Monroe were also getting ready to set off.

Back on this road again, it was still the familiar scene of parting ways.

Bama and the others stuck with Dane, grinning from ear to ear.

Jay Monroe walked with the leader. The latter stepped up, showing leadership-level concern for Renee: "You slept for half an hour. Are you feeling any more awake?"

Renee had just woken up, and she was always a bit slow when short on sleep: "...Yeah, thank you, sir."

The leader watched her dazed look, a little worried. "Are you sure you’re okay?"

Renee blinked blankly at him. Okay for what?

The leader hesitated, then spoke up: "Are you feeling unwell anywhere? Want to rest again once we get there?"

This time, Renee caught on. He was just being polite—like there’d be any chance to rest when they got there. Realizing she was worrying them, she braced herself, shook her head with a smile: "Thank you, sir. I just woke up. I’ll be fine in a bit."

Seeing that aside from her pale face, nothing else seemed wrong, the leader finally relaxed.

Renee was Team Blue’s star player. There could be no slip-ups at this critical point.

Jay Monroe was her partner, one of the people who understood her best here. He knew she could take hardship—except lack of sleep. Otherwise, she’d end up just like this.

Jay Monroe didn’t mind letting her sleep longer, but their departure time had been precisely calculated. Any delay, less prep, and it would all impact the outcome.

Jay Monroe walked up to Renee. She thought he’d give her a hug like last time, but he just raised his hand, and—faster than lightning—thwacked her on the forehead with a flick of his finger. "Pop."

He hit so hard, her whole head went "buzz"—all white for a second. She seriously suspected he’d given her a concussion.

The prime culprit beamed at her with a dazzling smile, staring: "That woke you up, didn’t it? Where’s your thank you?"

Renee: "..." Thank him for not using the army knife, at least?

Renee shot him a dark, resentful glare, spun around, and clutched her forehead, hissing from the pain. What the hell was Jay Monroe using, tungsten fingers? Why did it hurt so much?

Dane walked beside her, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye, openly mocking her with not a shred of pity.

Renee was thoroughly awake now, though her forehead was still throbbing. She took out her water bottle again and dabbed some water onto her brow, hoping the cold would help shrink the swelling.

It wasn’t that she couldn’t take pain; it was just that a performer’s face was her fortune.

This time, Dane didn’t just stand by. He took the bottle from her, screwed the cap back on, then, knowing her vanity, leaned in for a look. Soon he stepped back a few paces and drawled, "Relax, the skin’s not broken. Just a little red and swollen—it’ll be gone by morning."

Renee finally relaxed, hooking her bottle back on. She meant to thank him, but then pictured how he’d nearly whipped out his army knife to "wake" her before, and her heart seized up again.

They reached the winding mountain path they had to take to get back to customs, and it was deep into the night. The road was deathly silent, even the insects had gone quiet.

The moon was bright tonight, a flawless full disc hanging overhead, spilling silver light over the ground.

Hart and the others were spaced out, watching the road. Dane and Jay Monroe kept in contact, monitoring what was happening at Team Red Tower.

Renee had nothing to do. She found the same patch of vines as last time and began tinkering with something.

Dane and Jay Monroe had fought side by side many times. They knew exactly how to use the commotion in Team Red Tower to judge if the customs team had started heading back.

According to Jay Monroe, the lights in Team Red Tower were still blazing tonight. So far, no squads had moved out.

Dane told everyone to be patient a little longer. When he looked around and didn’t see Renee, he asked Bama—who told him where she was.

By the time Dane jogged over, Renee had already cut plenty of vine branches and was carving something, asking Bama to carry them back up the path.

Bama saw someone coming and called, "Dalton!" Then hurried over, all eager and chipper.

Dane didn’t even glance at him, making a beeline for Renee.

She’d heard him coming and paused her work, looking up at him. The intense shine in his eyes startled her, but then she saw him looking at what was in her hands and waved him over.

So Bama witnessed this six-foot-three Dane, squatting obediently, those Greek-god looks of his suddenly softened, eyes glued to the girl in front of him.

The whole scene screamed romance.

The girls up late watching the live stream, though, were as calm as water.

[Dane really reminds me of my boss. Every time I’m working hard, he’s all warm and approachable like this.]

[Are you sure Dane’s being so nice just because Morgan’s working?]

[Or...could it be that, under the moonlight, Dane suddenly saw Morgan’s breathtaking beauty and—boom boom boom—fell madly in love?]

[...Sis, you ever seen the stray dogs at our gate act completely different in the moonlight?

I mean, maybe he’s not just being nice to Morgan.

...Maybe it’s because of what Morgan’s got in her hand?]

[...] Finally get why people say reality makes women wise and clear-eyed—must’ve gone through a lot of harsh wake-up calls.

Renee explained her idea to Dane, wanting his opinion, but realized he was just staring at her hands in that way. It made her scalp prickle. Wait—was he into hands or something?

Under Renee’s alarmed stare, Dane did reach out with both hands—but only to scoop up what she’d carved.

Renee let out a breath and pulled her hands back behind her.

Dane was holding one of the short arrows for the crossbow she’d made last time. Only now, this batch was even better.

His gaze softened, back straightening as he praised, "Nice carving. Last time was rushed and rough."

Renee didn’t deny it. Last time, she was pressed for time. This was different.

Dane fiddled with the arrow for a while before handing it back. Seeing her working on another stick, he watched her hands closely, curious how she could whittle such fine, almost artistic weapons out of a branch.

Dane watched for a while, then simply took out his own knife and started copying her carving style.