Rory turned to look at the people she had trafficked and tortured, their humanity stripped bare. For the first time, a flicker of regret crossed her face. Perhaps Yvette was right—one wrong step led to another, and life offered no second chances. If she could go back, she wouldn't have run away with that man. She would have stayed with her parents, married someone who loved her, and lived a quiet life. Instead, she was a fugitive, dying far from home without a final farewell.

Rory looked at Yvette, calmly drew a pistol from her pocket, and aimed it at herself. The past ten years had drained her. She called out, "Remember my name—my real name. I am Rory Miller." She didn't want to leave this world without a single soul knowing who she truly was. With a faint smile, she pulled the trigger. The sharp crack of the gunshot echoed, and Rory collapsed, her eyes wide open, staring at the sky.

The sky was a brilliant blue, just as it had been the day she left home, but now, there was no going back. Rory's eyes fluttered shut as her life ended in Voraxia, the place that had utterly destroyed her.

Samantha sighed, gazing at Rory's body. "Madly in love, and yet she paid the steepest price. A pitiful person, but a hateful one, too."

Suddenly, a commotion erupted. A young girl, in tattered clothes, burst forward, a dagger in her hand. Without hesitation, she lunged at Rory's body, repeatedly stabbing it until it was unrecognizable. Only then did she release her grip, collapsing to the ground, her eyes gleaming with satisfaction.

Her brutal act stunned everyone except Yvette and her companions. Yvette looked at the girl, perhaps fifteen years old. Though her face still held traces of innocence, the scars on her small frame told a story of unimaginable suffering. The girl, bloodied dagger in hand, approached Yvette, knelt, and looked up. Her young eyes brimmed with determination. "Thank you for saving me."

Yvette's expression remained calm and indifferent. "No need," she replied nonchalantly.

The girl wiped the blood from her face and stood. "Your name is Yvette, right? I'll remember it. One day, I'll repay you." Without waiting for a response, she turned and walked away. In the setting sun, her small figure seemed to radiate immense energy.

Yvette watched her go. For a moment, she seemed to be looking at her younger self.

Jeremiah stepped forward, his tone thoughtful. "That girl is brave and decisive. She'll achieve great things." To accomplish great things requires neither age nor trivial concerns. At such a young age, she had acted with precision and ferocity. Even more remarkable was her gratitude.

Yvette tilted her head slightly, a hint of nonchalance in her delicate brows. "The girl is pretty cool."

Emmett, Samantha, Charles, and the Eagle King nodded in agreement. The girl's composure and intelligence were extraordinary for her age.

Yvette turned, her gaze falling on the corpse and the trembling captives. Her eyes darkened. "Let's go."

Jeremiah gently squeezed her hand. "Sure. Let's go back to the hotel."

As they prepared to leave, a captive stepped forward. "Wait! Could you… take us with you? We have nowhere to go. We don't know this place. Please help us."

"Yes, please! You look like good people, wealthy ones too. Surely you'll help us." The pleas continued, desperate cries for help and promises of future gratitude.

Samantha was speechless. She thought, 'After all the effort rescuing these people, now we're expected to provide food, shelter, and jobs? They certainly know how to play the guilt card.'

The Eagle King sneered. He wasn't surprised; years of killing had shown him all kinds of people, those who acted politely but would stab you in the back.

Charles shared the sentiment, believing greed to be the most treacherous thing. If they helped, they would only receive resentment. These people would never be satisfied.

Yvette's lips curled into a wicked smile. Her voice was cold and emotionless. "Go die then."

She entered the car, followed by Jeremiah, Emmett, and the others. Seeing Yvette's disregard, the captives turned hostile, showering them with accusations and insults, comparing them to Rory.

Inside the car, Yvette barely glanced at them. Jeremiah fired a shot into the air, silencing the crowd. Emmett revved the engine, and the car sped away.

Jeremiah holstered his gun, lifting his chin. "What do you want to eat for dinner?"

Emmett twitched, thinking, 'After all that, Jeremiah's thinking about what Yvette wants to eat?'

Yvette casually played with Jeremiah's fingers, meeting his gaze. "I want to eat you."

Emmett almost lost control of the car, narrowly avoiding a tree. He saw Jeremiah's sharp gaze in the rearview mirror and panicked.

Emmett forced a smile. Jeremiah withdrew his gaze, pinching Yvette's face, his breath warm against her ear. "When we get back, I'll let you. Eat as much as you want."

Yvette shifted, her ears faintly pink, but her composure remained unshaken. "I won't take responsibility if I break you," she replied calmly.

Emmett jerked the wheel again, nearly losing control, muttering, "I swear I'm not doing this on purpose, Jeremiah."

Jeremiah laughed softly.