The sudden turn of events left Wade frozen, unsure whether he should step in or not.
Carly jumped out of the truck, her face a mix of shock and—unexpectedly—relief.
Unlike Wade, the sight of Lester being subdued gave her the unsettling but undeniable feeling of "so he finally shows his true colors."
All along the road, Lester had given her nothing but bad impressions.
His filthy appearance, the knife he always kept at his side, and those lingering, predatory stares…
More than once, Carly had nearly decided to get out and walk.
Compared to him, the sharp, composed priest was infinitely safer.
And in a world where appearances spoke volus, Carly had already chosen her side.
Sadie, however, was calm as ever.
After everything they had gone through, she knew Gideon wasn't a man to act without reason.
So the instant he made his move, she quietly drew her weapon as well.
Her eyes flicked toward him, wordlessly asking if they should restrain the two young passengers too.
"Relax, Miss Cooper," Gideon said smoothly, still using the alias.
"These two are victims. They don't know."
The word victims made Wade stiffen. He frowned at being called a "youngster"—after all, they didn't look far apart in age.
But then the word sank in.
Victims?
"F–Father," Wade stamred, "what's going on here?"
"What's going on?"
Lester snarled through clenched teeth, still reeling from the wound.
"I gave you a ride… and this is how you repay ?!"
The accusation made Wade flush, as if he'd been complicit in so sche.
"Father, please, maybe we should—"
But Gideon cut him off coldly.
"Enough, Mr. Lester. Don't pretend innocence."
He wrenched the truck door open and dragged Lester out onto the dirt.
"How many young n and won have you lured into that town? How many have you helped turn into those wax statues?"
The words hit Lester like a blade. His eyes flickered with shock before he quickly masked it.
"I don't know what you're talking about."
Gideon let out a thin smile.
Then, imitating the thod Sadie had once used against the monster they previously encountered, he drove his knife into each of Lester's joints—precisely, cruelly, yet avoiding the vital spots.
Lester's scream tore through the night.
From the very first glance, Gideon had recognized him: one of the infamous trio behind the House of Wax.
In the original version of the story, that fact wasn't revealed until much later.
And Lester—alone, the last survivor—was ant to appear at the very end, leaving the classic horror-movie cliffhanger.
But this wasn't the sa wax museum.
Gideon knew it the mont he agreed to ride along.
This was his chance to dig out information.
Their brief conversation had already told him enough—there weren't many living people in that town.
That detail leaked through every evasive answer Lester gave.
Ask him how to bleed a carcass? He could talk at length.
But ask about entertainnt in town? Suddenly, vague excuses.
Suspicious.
Too suspicious.
Especially since Lester clearly knew the road well.
And he'd admitted to having two brothers who lived in the town permanently.
Three brothers.
Blood bound.
There was no way Lester had never been inside.
Sothing didn't add up.
So Gideon had shifted the topic—to hunting.
From his answers, Lester seed to be just a skilled human hunter, with no sign of supernatural abilities.
Yet Simo had warned them—the other two brothers possessed terrifying powers.
Gideon suspected Lester might still be just an ordinary man.
Now, bleeding out and trembling with naked fear, Lester's expression confird it.
Which gave Gideon the perfect opening.
Locking eyes with him, he activated [Psychological Counseling].
"Poor Mr. Lester… life alone in the forest must be hard. Allow to be your listener."
His low, resonant voice wove into Lester's mind, loosening the last of his defenses.
"We… we were abandoned," Lester muttered.
According to him, his two brothers had once been conjoined twins. Their father forced a brutal separation surgery—scarring them both for life.
Vincent, left with a violent temperant.
Bo, his face ruined beyond recognition.
And Lester? He wasn't even their father's real son. From childhood, he had been nothing but a punching bag.
When their mother died, the three finally snapped. Together, they murdered their father.
But Vincent and Bo didn't stop there.
They beca intoxicated with the thrill of killing, obsessed with turning their victims into wax statues.
One day, a man in a black hood ca to town.
"He called himself Azazel, an emissary of God…"
The stranger subdued Vincent and Bo effortlessly—yet chose not to kill them.
Instead, he granted them power.
"I begged for that sa strength," Lester whispered bitterly.
"But the man only laughed. He said, 'Every town needs its ordinary folk.'"
Lester let out a broken, miserable chuckle.
Since then, he had served as the lure—drawing unsuspecting travelers into Ambrose.
Because Vincent and Bo's newfound abilities were unstable, they kept Lester living out in the woods, away from their rampages.
As for Sasha's fate—yes, he knew.
"A few days ago, I did bring a nun into town," he confessed.
"She wasn't easy prey. Vincent had to fight hard to bring her down. They'll likely… deal with her today."
At that, Gideon's eyes lit up.
So Sasha was still alive.
He had braced himself to find only a corpse—but there was still hope.
As for this "Azazel," Gideon suspected the man belonged to so cult.
The twisted changes in the wax museum were clearly his doing.
Ambrose wasn't just a ghost town anymore—it was a slaughterhouse, a factory for sacrifices.
Gideon stroked his chin, calculating his next move.
Carly and Wade, anwhile, were wide-eyed, barely processing what they were seeing.
Hadn't the priest just stabbed Lester repeatedly?
Hadn't Lester looked ready to kill him?
And now… the two sat talking like old acquaintances, with Lester spilling every secret?
Carly blinked in disbelief. This man's willpower is pathetic. I thought he was dangerous…
Wade, on the other hand, finally understood which side he belonged on.
Sadie rely folded her arms, calm and unsurprised. She'd seen Gideon work before.
Instead, she amused herself by watching the shock on the younger pair's faces.
Once the truth sank in, both Carly and Wade shuddered.
The thought of what might have happened had they trusted Lester…
"Boiled alive in wax… arms hacked off…"
Carly swallowed hard. Just hearing it made her skin crawl.
---
Ambrose.
Deep beneath the town, in a dimly lit basent, Sasha lay unconscious on a cold tal table.
Her wrists and ankles were bound. Her eyes shut tight.
Beside her stood a cart—lined with scalpels, gauze, syringes, bone saws.
The place looked less like a room than a butcher's operating theater.
Bo stood over her, long hair hanging to his shoulders, veiling his ruined face.
His gaze clung to Sasha, his features twisted grotesquely together.
"Can we begin the lobotomy?" he rasped.
A voice answered from behind.
Bo turned. It was Vincent.
Unlike his brother, Vincent's face was intact—handso, even.
"Her body is cloaked in a strong warding power," Bo said hoarsely.
"I'll need more ti."
Vincent frowned, eyes settling on the unconscious nun.
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