Johanna’s vengeance demanded her enemy’s blood. Every time she recalled that night, an invisible hand seemed to grip her heart, suffocating her with unbearable pain. Archie’s death at Imogen’s hands haunted her. She had to get her revenge. Without that burning desire, she wouldn't have endured.
Now, with opportunity finally at hand, after all her patience and suffering, how could she let it slip away? Inside the SUV, unnoticed, Johanna’s eyelashes trembled slightly. As the robed figure chanted commands, bronze bell in hand, she moved.
With sudden, ferocious intensity, she lunged forward. The impact was like a cannonball, sending the robed figure crashing into the car door. The bell slipped from his grasp, snatched by Johanna in the ensuing chaos.
The robed figure’s expression twisted in shock and fury. “What are you—?”
Pere, nearby, was stunned. He froze. Only when Johanna leaped from the car, clutching the bell, did the robed figure turn to Pete, shouting, “Are you blind?”
Pete finally snapped out of his daze. “Get her! Bring her back!” he yelled to the men in the other vehicle.
They rushed forward, but it was too late. In that brief moment, Johanna manipulated the bell, issuing one final command to the venomous creature within. Then, without hesitation, she raised the bell high and smashed it against a nearby rock.
A furious curse escaped the robed figure’s lips. “Fuck!”
The bronze bell cracked, a jagged hole marring its surface. Whether the venomous creature inside was killed was unclear, but Johanna collapsed to the ground, laughing hysterically. She remembered the robed figure’s words: “If the bronze bell is ever destroyed, the last command given will force the connected venomous creature to fulfill it, even at the cost of the host’s life. There’ll be no turning back.”
As the bell’s frantic chime ceased, a piercing sensation, like a thousand needles stabbing his skull, surged through Maurice’s head. His controlled steps faltered, but only for a moment. His eyes turned bloodshot, his pupils clouding crimson. The last vestiges of clarity were consumed by excruciating pain.
Meanwhile, Felicia, Imogen, and Scarlet reached the massive crater left by the explosions. No one was there. The acrid smell of smoke and sulfur lingered. Scarlet, observant as ever, pointed toward a clearing. “The helicopter landed over there. It must be Mr. Russell.”
Felicia and Imogen turned. The helicopter’s cabin door was open, the rotor blades whipping through the air. Dust and sand swirled, blurring the view. Amidst the chaos, a tall figure jumped down. His coat flared dramatically, emphasizing his broad shoulders, narrow waist, and long legs. It was Stephan.
Felicia’s gaze was immediately drawn to him. Stephan’s intense eyes locked onto hers, a hint of reproach in their piercing depth, as if he was preparing to settle a score. Feeling a twinge of guilt, Felicia touched her nose awkwardly and stepped back.