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In the aftermath of the confrontation, Wyatt's piercing red eyes surveyed the scene. The rogue bodies lay still, the evidence of the skirmish tainting the once serene woods. He turned toward Ruben with a stern expression.

"Ruben, clean this area. Leave no trace. We don't want Silas tracing us back here," Wyatt commanded, the authority in his voice cutting through the tension-filled air.

Ruben nodded in acknowledgment. "I'll take care of it." As Ruben began the task of erasing any sign of the struggle, Wyatt's gaze fell on Hazel. She lay unconscious, a pawn in the supernatural battle. Wyatt's expression softened momentarily with a flicker of conflict in his eyes.

He approached her with a mixture of determination and regret. Lifting her gently in his arms, he murmured to himself, "I didn't want you involved in this, doc. But there's no choice now."

Navigating through the darkened woods, Wyatt carried Hazel back to the mansion. He entered her room, carefully laying her on the bed. As he