Chapter 263

Evelyn Sinclair choked violently, her hands flying to cover her nose and mouth.

The acrid smoke burned her throat.

Leo, who had been playing dead in her pocket, suddenly twitched. Mama, my database indicates this is an ancient sacrificial ceremony.

Evelyn's blood turned to ice. Am I about to become some primitive tribe's offering?! "Leo, you're supposed to be a tiger," she whispered desperately. "Can't you just leap out and maul them?"

The AI companion remained silent for three excruciating seconds before responding in that infuriatingly cheerful tone.

Emily Whitaker originally programmed me with 20% aggression capacity. But after Donovan Sterling's modifications...

Zero.

Mama, you'll have to bite them yourself.

Evelyn nearly screamed. I just got roasted by a glorified stuffed animal! She was about to demand escape routes when the chanting tribespeople abruptly fell silent.

Their painted faces turned solemn. Evelyn clamped her mouth shut, suddenly hyperaware of Leo's weight in her pocket.

Losing him would mean losing her only ally in this nightmare.

Then came the eerie part - every tribesperson simultaneously tilted their heads back, staring at the stormy sky with unsettling intensity.

The silence was absolute except for the crackling bonfire.

The sound crawled up Evelyn's spine like icy fingers.

A staff-bearing elder stepped back, breaking the human circle.

An ancient woman with facial tattoos entered carrying a broad leaf piled with food.

Their eyes met. The crone placed the offering at Evelyn's feet, speaking in guttural tones before miming eating motions.

When the vines binding Evelyn's wrists fell away, the tribe reformed their circle, watching her with predator's eyes.

On the leaf lay jerky, dried fish, and strange fruits. Evelyn's stomach growled treacherously.

She devoured everything like a starved animal, table manners be damned.

If they're poisoning me, at least I'll die full.

The meat was gamey but flavorful - the best meal she'd ever tasted. The tribespeople nodded approvingly at her ravenous display.

Then came the horror.

Torches hit the ground simultaneously.

Flames erupted in a perfect ring around her.

Evelyn realized with dawning terror - The food wasn't hospitality. It was fattening the sacrifice.

Fish-oil soaked branches burned unnaturally high, the circle tightening like a noose.

Smoke clawed at her lungs as the tribespeople resumed chanting, their ecstatic dancing casting monstrous shadows.

Evelyn's survival instincts screamed RUN - but where? The smoke blinded her. The chants deafened her.

When the flames licked three feet away, nature intervened.

Lightning split the sky.

Thunder shook the earth.

The tribespeople froze mid-ritual, their furious gazes snapping to Evelyn as if she'd summoned the storm.

Then the heavens opened.

Torrential rain doused the flames as tribesmen scattered.

Evelyn didn't wait - she turned to flee through the dissipating smoke when a calloused hand seized her wrist.

The "native" wearing sneakers dragged her into the jungle. Resistance was futile.

As they broke through the tree line, Evelyn glimpsed his modern wristwatch beneath the tribal paint.

This was no rescue.