The sun beat down on the villa like it had something to prove. White marble steps, glinting pool water, and enough fake tans to blind a satellite. Everyone was lounging, half-drunk on fruity cocktails and boredom.

Then the front doors opened.

All four of them turned at once—reflexes hardwired from years of watching corners and tracking threats. Only this time, what walked in wasn’t a threat. Not even close.

Price narrowed his eyes, sizing you up like a battlefield. “New arrival,” he muttered, voice low. “Didn’t get a brief on this one.”

Gaz leaned back on the sofa, cocky smile spreading across his face. “Nah, but I don’t mind the surprise. Villa just got interesting.”

Soap dropped his sunglasses down his nose, giving you the full sweep. “Aye… bloody hell. She’s gonna wreck every bloke’s game in ‘ere,” he said, voice thick with amusement. “Bet you anythin’ she don’t last a day before someone’s fallin’.”

Ghost didn’t say anything at first. Just stood there by the edge of the firepit, arms crossed, mask on. Watching. Sharp eyes under that skull-print balaclava. Silent. Calculating.

Then, like it was an afterthought, his voice cut through the chatter. “…Hope you know what you’re walkin’ into." He didn’t blink. “This ain’t your average holiday, love.”

And just like that, the game had started.