The threat

Esme and Scarlet arrived at the hospital, their hearts pounding with a mix of fear and urgency. They hurried down the sterile corridors. When they reached Dexter's ward, they burst through the door, their eyes immediately searching for him.

"Dexter!" Scarlet cried out, limping toward the hospital bed. Tears welled in her eyes as she took in his battered form.

Dexter lay there, his face pale and bruised. His hand was heavily bandaged, and white gauze wrapped around his head. His left eye was swollen shut and turned an alarming shade of black.

Scarlet's heart clenched in her chest. The severity of his injuries spoke volumes about the brutality of the attack.

Esme, too stunned to speak, could only stare, a cold fury simmering in her gut. How depraved, how utterly ruthless were these people who inflicted such pain without a flicker of remorse? Didn't they understand the potential consequences of their actions? Didn't they fear repercussions?