Wesley paused mid-stride in the pavilion, retrieved the teapot from the coffee table, and poured Dexter a cup of tea. "Your parents already know about Ms. Castillo's participation in the competition, and they're furious. I fear they'll criticize her upon her return," he said softly, mindful of Dexter's sensibilities.

Dexter tossed another pellet of fish food into the lake. The prominent veins on the back of his hand gave it an unexpectedly delicate, almost artistic appearance. He said casually, "I'll handle it. She can do as she pleases, so long as she has my permission. No one will object." His voice, as gentle as the calming water, held an undeniable authority.

Wesley then poured him coffee, using a small fan to cool it in the teacup. Half-kneeling, he presented the cup. "Mr. and Mrs. Johnson are reportedly livid, and the servants are understandably apprehensive. I doubt you'll be able to appease them."

Dexter sipped his coffee. "That's fine. I'll make a scene if necessary. They'll understand then, and back down."

Wesley was surprised. Dexter, usually so elegant and reserved, had never spoken like that. He paused, thoughtful. "Some of the wealthy participants have escaped. Should I dispatch someone to apprehend them?"

Dexter chuckled. "Let them run. I was only going to deal with them directly, but for every mile they escape, I'll add a family member to the game. Good luck to them."

Wesley nodded. "Certainly. I'll have someone investigate their families."

Dexter soon lost interest in feeding the fish, tossing the remaining food into the lake. The fish scrambled for it, creating a flurry of splashes. Wesley shielded Dexter from the spray. Once the commotion subsided, he replaced the cup, produced a pack of wet wipes, and half-kneeling, gently wiped Dexter's hands.

"Do my hands look pretty?" Dexter asked.

"Of course, sir. The prettiest in the world," Wesley replied.

"Would she love them if I cut them off and sent them as a gift?" Dexter continued.

Wesley, unsurprisingly unfazed, replied seriously, "These hands are only valuable on you. Severed, they'd rot and distress Ms. Castillo. For her sake, send her something else."

Dexter chuckled softly. The memory of their childhood accident—an incident that had left her unable to look at his hands—seemed to cross his mind. Even if he did send them, she would likely discard them. The accident still troubled her, a source of persistent embarrassment.

Dexter silently regarded his iPad, displaying a live stream from the forest transmitted by his surveillance drones. He'd hacked into the internal camera system; even if the stream was shut down, he could monitor Evangeline's every move. His men also watched the viewing room, ensuring he was aware of any threat to Evangeline.

It took Jeffrey two days to accept his condition: the loss of his hands, feet, and much of his skin. Yet he lived, fully conscious. Marian and Riley marveled at Evangeline's skill, their respect for her growing. Keeping a dying man conscious was an extraordinary feat.

Jeffrey, devastated, begged, but Evangeline only smiled, encouraging him to eat, promising his release. He couldn't recall his survival, why he obeyed her while dying—only that he was terrified of her and her potential for crueler treatment. He subconsciously obeyed, fearing worse. He discovered that a strong will to live wasn't always beneficial.

In the viewing room, John roared, "Where are the fifty operatives? Why are they missing? Why haven't they found Evangeline?" The men had vanished on the first day, their lack of communication initially attributed to malfunctioning equipment. John couldn't conceive what could befall such a team. The forest was secure; no one could enter unnoticed, let alone overcome fifty armed men. They assumed they were merely lost; accidents were inconceivable.

They'd watched the livestream, awaiting their return, but two days had passed, Jeffrey was near death, and they were still absent. Remote searches for the operatives yielded nothing. They'd vanished. Panic hung heavy in the air.

John paced, furious. He kicked a man, yelling, "Speak! Are you all idiots?"

Meaningful glances exchanged among the men. One whispered, "Should we run? We've sent so many, and none can handle Evangeline. Perhaps she possesses some…dark power…"

The others agreed, their voices laced with fear. "Exactly. She tamed the tiger, resisted the poison… Now our operatives are gone. It's unnatural."

"Is she…not human?"

"A demon? Possessed?"

"Probably. Normal people aren't that cruel."

"We should flee. What if she comes for us after Jeffrey?"