In a dimly lit room, two thick husky voices spoke in hushed tones. One of the men, clad in a dark suit, had just stepped into the room as he informed the other, who sat behind a large oak desk, "It seems like Lyssa survived the surgery. She has been applying for a visa to our country, but I keep declining it."

The man behind the desk, his features obscured by shadows, nodded slowly. "Good. Make sure it doesn’t get approved," he replied with a steely tone as the other man quietly left the ...