The sunset left traces in the sky, while the last orange rays fell on the river waters, reflecting Stanley's condition. The frown on his face was visible. He was not satisfied with the turn of events.

First, Xeno had been kidnapped by that group of young people playing at being scientists — smarter and more daring than they seemed at first glance. Then, as if in a silent stroke, you disappeared into the heart of the Amazon rainforest. This was no coincidence. Something was wrong. Something escaped Stanley's trained gaze.

Your obsession with saving Xeno had blinded you to the dangers that were closest to you. Brazil was vast, unpredictable, a territory that could not be underestimated. Stanley knew that. But the real danger, he finally understood.

Since arriving on Brazilian soil, the atmosphere among the crew members was already tense. Everyone obeyed Stanley — not out of loyalty, but out of fear and respect. From the beginning, you demonstrated thoughts that defied consensus. Still, Stanley and Xeno kept you close. You were useful, skilled, and, on top of everything else, you were Stanley's girlfriend. That was enough to guarantee your presence wherever you went, even under the suspicious looks and forced silence of the others.

Until a breach was opened.

With Xeno captured and Stanley focused exclusively on rescuing him, they acted. The team — or part of it — created a trap. Something to get you out of the way. But Stanley knew. You didn't die. No, of course not. You were too good to fall into a poorly made trap. The theory was that you got lost in the vast and treacherous territory. The truth? Betrayal.

They thought they could trick you. But Stanley knew he would find you again. And if that meant crushing every single one of those companions, he would. That thought filled his mind with cold fury. Without saying a word, Stanley stood up, his eyes fixed on the traitors before him. His gaze was colder than the Atlantic winter. There was something lethal in the gleam in his eyes. It was the gaze of a man who does not hesitate or play around.

He raised his chin, firm. A predator about to strike.

"You bastards," he muttered, each syllable filled with venom and command. His hand hovered over his gun, in an instinctive gesture. The wind whistled around him, complicit in the deadly silence that was forming.

"Where is she?" The question cut through the air like a shard. Cold. Sharp. No room for mercy.

He sighed. The sound came dry, as if he were swallowing embers.

"I want answers." There was no request there. Just the promise of consequences.