On the day I get buried alive by the avalanche, my biological older sister, Whitney Linder, cuts off the safety rope wrapped around my waist in order to save Cameron Linder, the fake heir who has replaced me all these years.

The snow is about to cover my head, and I can feel my warmth rapidly draining from my body. In despair, I begin screaming at Whitney.

"Don't leave me behind, Whitney! Otherwise, my adoptive father's subordinates will settle the score with you by blasting the entire mountain into pieces!"

Over the years since I get accepted back into the elite Linder family, I've been keeping up a cowardly and docile facade. Never have I ever mentioned my adoptive parents, who live abroad.

Because of that, the Lindens have no idea that the married couple who have adopted me are actually the leaders of an international mercenary squad.

My adoptive dad is a legendary sniper, whereas my adoptive mom is a demolitions expert. I'm the apple of the entire squad's eye.

But Whitney pulls back the severed rope with a cold chuckle.

"Keep dreaming, Skylar! You're just a country bumpkin who lies all the time, so you definitely don't have any powerful subordinates! You should be grateful to me for taking you here for a skiing trip without complaining about how much you embarrass me in public!

"To think that you actually have the guts to fight for a chance of survival with Cameron! Don't you know that he mustn't suffer from any shock at all?"

After that, Whitney leaves with Cameron in tow.

"Since your adoptive parents are that amazing, why don't you get them to fly over in a helicopter to rescue you?"

When the light above my head vanishes, I use what little strength I have to press the red button on the satellite-based GPS.

What Whitney doesn't know is that she will die in the mountain once the signal is sent out.

Whitney Linder's figure disappeared completely into the blowing snow.

All that was left was the howl of the wind. It sounded like it was laughing at how stupid I had been.

I forced my eyes open. The only person still standing nearby was Whitney's personal assistant, Alfred Cooper.

He looked down at me. His expression was conflicted.

Hope sparked in my chest. It was my survival instinct kicking in. "Help… Help me…"

Alfred reached out. His hand hovered in mid-air before he pulled back.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Skyler. Ms. Linder said Mr. Linder was frightened and that everyone needed to escort him down the mountain," he said. "She even said that the avalanche has already stopped. You're not buried that deep. You're from the countryside. A little snow won't kill you. She wants you to cool off."

After that, he guiltily avoided my eyes.

If he had just grabbed my wrist and pulled, I could've crawled out.

But he didn't.

He chose to obey that blind CEO and left a living person in an ice tomb.

His footsteps crunched away with the unmistakable sound of boots on snow.

I was abandoned.

I tried to bend my fingers and reach for the hard object hidden in my clothes.

My foster mother had slipped it to me before I went back to the Linder family.

She'd said, "Skyler, this is your lifeline. Don't use it unless you have no other choice. Because once you do, your peaceful life ends."

Back then, I'd laughed. Why would I ever need something like that with my real sister and parents back?

Now, the joke was on me.

Summoning the last of my strength, I pressed the red button.

With a tiny beep, the indicator light flickered twice, then died.

The satellite signal had been transmitted.

I didn't know if I could last long enough for them to cross borders and reach me.

This place was a dead zone sealed off after the avalanche.

Just then, my phone, pressed against my chest, suddenly lit up.

It was a particular vibration pattern.

It was a group message from the "Ride-or-Die Mercenary Squad".

Their encrypted channel managed to push a message through the weak signal.

Lauren Anderson sent a photo.

She was wiping down a heavy sniper rifle. The barrel was gleaming cold.

She added a short caption. "Got your location, Skyler. We're on a job near the border. Just 120 miles away from you. It's a nice mountain. It's perfect for burying someone."

I wanted to laugh, but my lips wouldn't move.

I tried to reply to Lauren, but my fingers were so frozen I couldn't even tap the screen.

My consciousness started to blur.

In a daze, it felt like I'd been thrown back into those years overseas.

That place was chaotic but somehow full of life.

When I was five, I was kidnapped and trafficked. I was passed from hand to hand until I ended up near the border.

It was Titus Anderson who dug me out of a pile of corpses.

He despised how filthy I was, but still gave me half a ration bar.

Titus, also known as Hawk, was a man of few words. He was also one of the best sharpshooters in the world.

He taught me how to assemble a Glock in three seconds.

He used to say that a gun was a man's partner. They were more reliable than people.

My foster mother, Freya Anderson, was an elegant lunatic.

Code-named T.N.T., she taught me how to turn ordinary cleaning products into liquid explosives. She'd always say, "If someone messes with you, blow them up. There's no need for a debate."

Then, there was Lauren.

She was my foster sister who had crawled out of the dead herself.

She always saved the best meat for me, then laughed as she broke the arms and legs of anyone who made me cry.

I gave up those days of living on the edge, yet surrounded by love, with my own hands.

It was all because I longed for my biological family.

I thought if I had that, I could have a normal home.

So, I took off the "Cheetah" mask and played the role of the obedient but timid heir to the Linder family.

Once, when I had a fever, Whitney handed me a cup of water.

I was so touched I almost cried, convinced that was what warmth felt like.

Reality slapped me hard.

Later, I learned that that cup of water was for Cameron Linder. He thought it was too hot, so he tossed it to me.

A sudden wave of pain ripped through my body, yanking me out of my memories.

It wasn't the warmth of rescue, but the sharp pain of metal smashing into bone.

A rescue worker's shovel slammed into my thigh.

I choked back a groan, my mind snapping clear.

They dragged me out of the snow roughly.

There was no stretcher or first aid as I'd imagined.

A rescue worker looked at me with utter disgust. "You're lucky to be alive. You've been buried for that long, yet you're still alive. We wasted half an hour because of you. Ms. Linder's furious."

He didn't even bother to stop the bleeding. He tossed me onto a supply cart like cargo.

I was hauled back to base camp on a bumpy ride.

The medical tent loomed before me. Warm yellow light spilled out of it. There was even the roar of a heater inside.

Two bodyguards hauled me in.

The warmth hit me, but it wasn't mine.

Cameron sat wrapped in thick cashmere. He was perched on the only soft chair.

Doctors and nurses crowded around him. Their faces were tight with concern.

"Mr. Linder, does it hurt? Quick, bring me the best ointment!"

I forced my eyelids open.

Cameron had only scraped a finger. There wasn't even blood.

The single heater was blasting hot air directly onto his hand.

I was soaked through, thigh torn open, curled in the muddy corner of the tent.

No one cared.

Alfred hurried past and saw the state I was in.

He hesitated for a second, then tossed me an old towel speckled with dirt.

"Wipe yourself off. Don't get the carpet dirty. Ms. Linder's calming Mr. Linder down. Don't go looking for trouble. Stay in that corner and don't move."

I clenched my teeth and stared at the towel.

The last bit of light in my eyes went out.

…

They threw me into an abandoned storage room.

The walls leaked cold air from every crack. It was barely better than being outside.

There was no doctor or medicine. I slumped against the wall. My thigh was still bleeding.

The door creaked open.

Cameron stepped into the storage room wearing a blue hospital gown.

He toyed with a pair of surgical scissors. There was a victorious grin stretched across his face.

His fragile, helpless act was gone. In its place was malice and spite.

He waved off the guards at the door, then shut it behind him. "You're really hard to kill, Skyler."

He traced the sharp tip lightly across my scarred face. The touch made my skin crawl.

"Want to know something? That safety rope didn't snap by accident," he whispered, learning closer. "I cut halfway through it with a blade ahead of time. And that avalanche? I had people set off micro-charges at just the right spot."

I jerked my head up and glared at him.

Even though I'd long suspected those were his doings, hearing him admit them out loud was still unreal.

He caused an avalanche just for attention. He was willing to bury the whole team for that.

Cameron read my thoughts and started chuckling. "I've got nothing to fear. I've got Whitney protecting me. I just wanted to see who she'd choose when it came down to life and death. The answer's obvious, isn't it?"

He tapped my cheek with the scissors. His eyes were full of mockery.

"You, the so-called true heir to the Linder family, lost. Biological ties don't matter in this family. What matters is who plays the role better."

I wanted to tear his mouth apart, but my body was too weak. I couldn't even lift a hand.

My helplessness only fed his pride. "It's not my fault. You shouldn't have come back. Those foster parents of yours were probably trash to society, right? I heard they were scraping by overseas by scavenging trash in refugee camps."

The moment he mentioned my foster parents, my gaze shifted.

It turned deadly.

I forced a cold smile.

"You'll regret this."

Cameron flinched at my glare.

That kind of killing intent was something he had never seen in his sheltered little world.

His face twisted with embarrassment and rage. He slapped me hard.

The blow was so heavy that my ears rang.

"You trash!" he hissed. "How dare you glare at me?"

He rose and ground his polished shoe into my wounded thigh.

"Ah!"

I couldn't hold back my groan. The wound split open, and blood pooled on the ground.

Cameron wiped his shoe on my clothes with disgust. "Whitney's going to finish you off soon anyway. You being alive makes me nervous. Once you're dead, everything the Linders have stays mine."

He lifted the scissors and angled them toward my eye.

Just then, hurried footsteps echoed outside.

Cameron moved with terrifying speed.

In an instant, he tucked the scissors away, dropped to the floor, and clawed his hair into a mess.

His posture was akin to that of a trembling, frightened deer.

The door burst open.

Whitney strode in.

The moment she took in the scene, her face darkened immediately. "What's going on here?"

Cameron looked like he had spotted salvation. He scrambled to his feet and threw himself into Whitney's arms.

Tears spilled on command. They slid down his cheeks.

"Whitney! Skyler's lost it!" he screamed, holding his perfectly uninjured hand before pointing at me. "I came to check on him and get him some medicine, but he woke up and tried to kill me with a pair of scissors. He said he was going to ruin my face and that I stole his place!"

His voice broke into gasps. "Whitney, I'm scared… My chest hurts…"