Iris Dalton had tolerated these people for a long time.
If they were the only ones on the island, she would have started chopping heads off by now! One chop per person, no mercy!
The other party was frightened by her large machete, shrinking their necks in fear, not daring to utter another word of provocation.
The fierce battle between the two sides finally died down.
In the camp, everyone watched the young girl walk over silently, her face pale and her lips pressed tightly together. Her long, wet hair draped over her shoulders, making her look fragile and helpless.
Iris Thorne came up and hugged her tightly. "Iris," she cried, comforting her. "Eric Jenson is a lucky man. He'll definitely be fine."
The others also came over, urging her to stay optimistic. Not finding him, but not finding a body either, was good news from another perspective.
Iris Dalton lowered her eyes, her heart aching terribly.
