On a remote island far from Mistvale, a luxurious bungalow stood hidden within dense, untamed forest.
No one came here unless they were invited.
Access was tightly controlled. Boat and chopper stopped at a nearby settlement, and from there, only trusted vehicles were allowed through.
Any other route meant facing the forest, a place few dared to enter and those who did never tried again.
The kidnappers had deliberately switched routes and vehicles along the way, laying false trails to mislead anyone who might be following.
No one would ever be able to trace the stronghold where Lyra was being held.
As the convoy approached the island, the moon hung low in the sky, casting a wash of silver across the water and greeting them in silence. Everything had to go exactly as planned.
Dante lounged in the chair on the balcony, patiently waiting for his people to arrive.
The ones bringing gifts meant only for him.
