Cyrus paused, sighing deeply. "Kill her on the spot. It's a shame, a girl as beautiful as that has to die. But once again, this is business," he said, his tone growing colder.
Derek nodded, absorbing the instructions. "Understood, Boss. I'll make sure the team knows. We'll keep a close watch on her and intervene if necessary."
Cyrus watched as Derek turned to leave, his mind still reeling from the intense encounter with Beatrice.
"Oh, nice masturbation session from a very beautiful lady."
Beatrice was a force to be reckoned with, and her beauty only added to the complexity of the situation.
But in their line of work, emotions had no place.
Survival and power were all that mattered.
As Derek coordinated the surveillance, Cyrus leaned back, a hint of a smile playing on his lips.
"Beatrice and mysterious Blade, you're full of surprises," he murmured to himself. "Let's see where this game takes us."
His eyes glinted with a mix of intrigue and anticipation.
The encounter with Beatrice had stirred something within him—an excitement for the unpredictable path that lay ahead. He was curious about the depths of her determination and the true extent of Beatrice's revenge over Atlas.
"The game had begun, and I'm ready to play."
He relished the challenge, the thrill of outsmarting his enemies, and the prospect of turning unexpected allies into powerful assets.
For now, Beatrice was an enigma, a wild card in a high-stakes battle, and Cyrus was determined to stay ahead.
*
The tracking team moved through the pitch-black night, their dogs barking and straining at their leashes. Flashlights cut through the darkness, casting eerie beams that danced across the trees and underbrush.
"Keep those dogs on the scent!" barked the team leader, his voice sharp in the still night air. "We need to find Mrs. Beatrice Carter Hawk!"
Suddenly, the atmosphere shifted as Atlas emerged from the shadows, a dark figure in a long trench coat. The coat billowed slightly in the wind, the fabric heavy and imposing.
His face was obscured by the shadow cast by the high collar of his coat, only his piercing eyes visible, glinting with cold gaze.
"Atlas is here," one of the men whispered, his voice tinged with a mix of respect and fear.
The team fell silent, the only sound remaining the anxious whimpering and occasional bark of the dogs.
"Sir."
Atlas paused, surveying the scene with a calculating gaze. "What's the status?" he asked, his voice low and commanding.
"We're following the trail, sir," the team leader replied, trying to keep his voice steady. "The dogs are on it, but it's a difficult track."
"Double the efforts," Atlas ordered, his tone brooking no argument. "We cannot afford to lose her."
"Yes, sir," the team leader responded, turning to his men. "You heard him! Move faster, and keep those dogs focused!"
As the team sprang into action, Atlas continued to observe, his eyes cold and calculating. "Remember," he said quietly, his voice carrying a chilling edge, "no stone unturned. I want every inch of this area covered."
The men nodded, fear and urgency propelling them forward. Atlas's presence loomed over them, the stakes at hand. The search for Mrs. Hawk had taken on a new urgency, and with Atlas there, failure was not an option.
One of Atlas's men approached him hastily. "Sir, we've found the burial site from the night of the incident."
Atlas's eyes narrowed. "Show me," he commanded, following the man into the darkness.
They walked through the thick underbrush until they reached a clearing where the ground had been freshly disturbed. The soil was loose, indicating the graves had been recently dug.
The smell of earth and decay filled the air.
"Here, sir," the man said, pointing to the shallow graves.
Atlas watched as his men began to dig, their shovels moving quickly through the soft soil. One by one, the bodies were carefully exhumed and laid out in a row.
Each was placed into a body bag with a grim efficiency, the zippers closing with a final, chilling sound.
"Line them up neatly," Atlas instructed, his voice cold and detached. He surveyed the bodies, his expression unreadable. "We need to identify each one. Make sure no detail is overlooked."
The men worked swiftly, digging into the loose soil, a clear sign that the graves had been recently filled. One by one, the bodies were carefully exhumed and laid out in a row, each placed into a body bag with grim efficiency.
The zippers closed with a final, chilling sound as they secured each corpse.
As the men worked, they began the painstaking task of identifying each body. The team moved methodically, checking distinguishing features, clothing, and any available identification.
But as they progressed, a pattern emerged that gnawed at Atlas's patience.
One of the men approached Atlas, his face pale under the dim light. "Sir, we've identified all the bodies, but... there's no sign of Beatrice Carter Hawk"
Atlas's eyes narrowed, a flicker of frustration crossing his features. "Are you certain?" he demanded.
"Yes, sir," the man confirmed, his voice shaking slightly. "We've checked all the bodies. None of them match Beatrice's description."
Atlas's jaw tightened as he processed the information. He turned to his right-hand man. "Double-check everything. We cannot afford any mistakes."
The man nodded and quickly relayed the order to the rest of the team. Atlas stood silently for a moment, staring at the row of body bags.
The night was filled with the sounds of the forest and the distant barking of the tracking dogs, but in that clearing, there was an eerie stillness.
"This complicates things," he muttered to himself, his mind racing. "Shit. Beatrice is still out there, and that means I need to intensify our efforts."
He turned to his men, his voice steely and determined. "Find her! Spread out, search every inch of this area, and report back with anything you find. She can't have gone far. She's weak and stupid!"
"Yes, Sir!"
*