At Mistvale, twenty-four hours earlier, after Rowan had been wheeled into the operating room, the doctor stitching his wounds flinched as a weak hand gripped his wrist.
"Doctor..." He swallowed. "I need a favor." Rowan’s voice was faint, barely more than a whisper.
The doctor leaned in, straining to hear him. Even as he struggled to utter the words, Rowan forced himself to deliver the plan.
He hesitated at first, unsettled by the risk, but Rowan’s desperation and the shadow of a kidnapping inside the hospital pushed him to agree.
He imdiately instructed one of the nurses to act, and she picked up a clipboard, straightened her posture, and stepped out of the operating room.
She claid she needed the family’s signature, deliberately spreading false news that Rowan had been severely injured. After the surgery, his condition was officially listed as a coma, and he was transferred to intensive care, where only imdiate family were permitted to enter.
Rowan’s plan was simple.
He needed to cultivate an atmosphere of absolute grief, one convincing enough that the spy would misread everything. The false information would make the enemy lower his guard.
In his injured state, he knew he couldn’t do it without Theo. He would also need a heavy dose of fentanyl just to endure the pain.
He had walked straight into their trap once.
Never again.
Fury surged through him as he vowed to make them pay for what they had taken.
His wife.
...
At the harbor, the three of them exchanged uneasy looks after Lyra hadn’t arrived for a long mont.
Griffin felt the weight of regret more than anyone. He had truly believed Ferro intended to help. Now that trust pressed heavily on him.
He forced himself to think of another plan but it was already late. If Lyra had been captured again, Dante would tighten his guard.
"I need to turn back and see what’s going on. ena, you stay here with Dr. Ashford."
Alex imdiately objected.
"No. Everywhere on this island is unsafe for . We’re better off sticking together."
"True," ena agreed without hesitation.
Griffin paused, considering their words. They were right.
"...Okay," he said at last.
He pressed the pedal to reverse, then a sudden knock struck their vehicle.
Everyone froze before tension exploded when a dark figure moved toward the window.
ena scread instantly.
It ran alongside the jeep, leaning close, straining to show his face.
"Dr. Ashford! It’s —Kane!" Alex recognized the voice at once.
"Stop! Stop—I know him!" He patted Griffin’s shoulder.
The brakes slamd abruptly, sending everyone jerking forward.
Alex jumped out of the jeep, followed by Griffin and ena.
"Thank goodness," Alex muttered, rubbing his chest as he spotted Kane a ter away, dressed in black tactical gear, a bulletproof vest strapped over his torso, a weapon in hand.
But before he could say anything, Kane snapped his gun up, aiming at Griffin—and Griffin mirrored him.
"Put down your gun."
"Lower your weapon!"
They shouted in unison.
ena, on the other hand, ducked back into the jeep without a word.
Alex watched both of them anxiously. "No, no, no! We’re on the sa side," he shouted, trying to calm the situation.
Seeing that neither of them would lower their guns, Alex added urgently, "Now we need to save Lyra. There’s no ti for all this."
Kane reached for his device without lowering his weapon. "I’m at the harbor with Dr. Ashford. No sign of the madam."
...
Stott slung Lyra over his shoulder as she pounded at his back, struggling to break free.
He carried her straight to the chief’s house and threw her into a room. The scene stirred tension and hushed murmurs among the villagers.
The elderly woman who had presided over the rite rose from her seat with the help of a younger woman. She headed toward the chief’s house and called him over.
"What is this? Is the bride being forced to marry that man?"
The chief scratched his jaw, a frown settling on his face. He had been thinking the sa thing.
The elderly woman’s voice hardened. "If she is being forced into this marriage, it is an insult to the gods. We must stop them."
"I will ask them."
The chief went upstairs in his house and ca face to face with Stott, who was guarding the door.
"What happened to the bride? Why was she dragged back like that?"
"Nothing happened. Everything is fine," Stott replied but his expression was tight.
"Let go!" Lyra shouted from inside the room. The door rattled violently as she tried to force it open.
The chief frowned. Obviously, sothing was wrong, and he couldn’t tolerate it.
"You cannot do this disgraceful thing in our village. Forcing soone into marriage—"
He broke off mid-sentence when cold tal pressed against the back of his head.
"What was that, Chief?" Dante’s voice ca from behind him, calm but dangerous.
"Did I hear sothing from you just now?"
The chief’s brows knit together as he slowly raised his hands in surrender. His mouth remained sealed.
"Everything is fine. All right, Chief?" Dante said calmly, the softness in his voice carrying a threat sharper than steel.
He leaned in just enough for the words to belong only to them.
"One wrong move... and I’ll make sure this village never existed." he murmured.
The chief swallowed and nodded, slow and reluctant.
Dante straightened. "Keep your eyes on him," he ordered Stott.
He strode into the room, the door clicking shut behind him.
He glanced around the room. Lyra was nowhere in sight.
"Where are you, my white peacock?"
His voice was soft, almost caressing... but with a danger that made the air tremble.
Dante exhaled slowly, a small, dark smile tugging at his lips.
"Why do I have to overco so many obstacles just to get you? Hm...?"
Silence answered him.
He already knew where she was.
At the bathroom door, he knocked, deliberately slow, letting the sound echo.
"Co out. Now." His tone was intimate, possessive... terrifyingly so.
Five seconds passed. There was no answer.
"No?" Dante murmured, a faint smile in his voice.
"Careful," he added quietly. "You don’t want to regret this."
Dante took two asured steps back, muscles coiling, then drove his boot forward.
The door exploded with a violent crack, wood splintering across the room.
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