Chapter 77

In a small, dimly lit cabin nestled deep in the woods, two men sat at a worn table, their faces shrouded in shadow. The only sound was the crackling of the fireplace behind them and the soft rustling of leaves outside. One of them, a burly man with a scar across his cheek, dialed a number on his phone. After a few rings, the line connected, and a cold, familiar voice answered from the other side.

"How’s everything going?" Uncle John’s voice was calm, but there was an underlying sharpness to it, like a man used to being in control.

The man with the phone glanced at his companion before replying, “Everything is set in place. The couples won’t make it through the next couple of days. It’s just a matter of time now.”

There was silence on the other end for a moment, and then a quiet chuckle. “Good. Make sure there are no mistakes. I want it to look like an accident—no loose ends.”

“We know the plan,” the second man interjected, his voice low and gruff. “They won’t survive it”

Uncle John’s