The men nodded in unison, dispersing like ghosts into the night. James placed a hand on Rafael's shoulder. "We'll find her, Raf. She's resilient—your words, remember?"
Rafael shrugged him off, but his voice softened fractionally. "She better be. If that bastard Jason's involved... or Mirabel... or Sarai and Bianca... I'll end them."
Outside, the festival grounds erupted into controlled chaos. Alarms blared softly, lights flickered on in tents and cabins. Guests—socialites, CEOs, influencers—stumbled out in robes and pajamas, murmuring in confusion. "What's happening?" one woman asked, pearls clutching at her neck—Mirabel Vexley herself, her elegant form wrapped in silk, her smooth brown skin pale in the moonlight. But her icy eyes held a glint of calculation.
Security teams fanned out, flashlights piercing the darkness, calling Eliana's name. "Mrs. Vexley! Eliana!" The air filled with urgency, the once-quiet mountains alive with footsteps and voices.
