Michael and the robed man simultaneously turned their heads toward where Pete had been lying. The spot was empty, save for a few drops of blood.

He ran? Pete had escaped?

The robed man stared dumbfounded at the empty space, as if struck. Only then did he realize Pete had handed him the explosives not out of trust, but as a distraction. This allowed Pete to slip away unnoticed.

Now, considering Pete's seemingly minor injuries, it was clear he'd faked his weakness, fooling everyone. The robed man had fallen for it, believing Pete's lies.

"That bastard!" The robed man's eyes blazed with fury. He didn't know whether to blame Pete's cunning or his own gullibility. He knew Pete was untrustworthy, a man with a gentlemanly facade who never hesitated to betray. How many times had Pete pulled similar stunts?

Michael signaled his team to pursue Pete. As they began to move, a helicopter's hum rose from a nearby clearing. Everyone watched as it ascended and disappeared into the horizon.

The robed man cursed, "Fuck!" The ten-minute backup was a hoax. Pete had planned this, arranging the helicopter for his escape, leaving the robed man to face the Special Operations Unit alone.

Michael watched the helicopter disappear, then turned to the robed man with a mocking smirk. "Looks like you've been sold out. Are you sure you still want to help this guy?"

The robed man closed his eyes, silent.

Michael took the remaining explosives from the robed man, giving them to an agent. Without a word, he hauled the robed man into a vehicle.

One suspect was apprehended, but Pete remained at large. Michael looked at the empty sky and ordered, "Put out an alert. Start the manhunt. It's time to get a warrant for his arrest."

Over the past two years, Pete and the robed man had been involved in numerous secret operations, including the abduction case Michael had been investigating. With one suspect in custody, the other wouldn't hide for long.

Or so he thought. After that day, Pete vanished without a trace, disappearing into thin air.

Meanwhile, at Seldvale's finest hospital, the door to a brightly lit operating room swung open. Stephan, waiting outside, asked the doctor removing his mask, his voice subtly trembling, "How is she?"

When Imogen was rushed to the hospital, her condition was terrifying. Her face was ashen, the knife wound life-threatening—one most wouldn't survive. Even the experienced medical team was shaken.

"It's not looking good," one doctor had muttered.

After two grueling hours, the lead surgeon smiled, despite his exhaustion. "Mr. Russell, the surgery was a success. Ms. Russell is out of immediate danger. It's all thanks to whoever treated her wounds beforehand. The hemostatic medication was incredibly effective and boosted her recovery!"

The surgeon sighed. "Without that medication, Ms. Russell wouldn't have made it. Mr. Russell, where did you get such extraordinary medicine? Does it have a name? Do you have a source?"

The surgeon was curious about Imogen's first aid, but noticing Stephan's shifting expression, he refrained from asking.