Chapter 4 - The Ultimatum
I stared at Sarah in absolute shock as she walked toward me with a sad, apologetic smile.
I reached out to touch her arm, needing to make sure she was actually real and not a hallucination from my concussion.
Her skin was warm, and she immediately pulled me into a tight, desperate embrace.
"I am so sorry I left you alone with them," Sarah whispered while tears streamed down her face.
She explained that she had discovered our parents' money-laundering ring five years ago.
When she threatened to go to the police, our father tampered with the brakes on her car to silence her permanently.
She barely survived the crash and decided to fake her own death to escape their endless cruelty.
Sarah had been living off the grid ever since, saving money to hire Rebecca to finally take our parents down.
I wiped my eyes and told her that Dad had kidnapped Chloe and was demanding the two million dollars.
Sarah's expression hardened into a mask of pure, calculated rage.
"He does not have the authority to negotiate, because the syndicate is already hunting him," Sarah stated.
She booted up a laptop on the table and accessed a heavily encrypted police scanner.
The radio chatter confirmed that a group of armed mercenaries had just ambushed the police transport carrying our mother.
Our mother had been broken out of police custody by the very cartel our father was trying to rob.
Suddenly, the burner phone in my pocket vibrated with a new text message.
It was a video file sent directly from my father's number.
I pressed play and saw Chloe tied to a wooden chair in a dark, damp basement.
My father stood behind her, holding a loaded pistol against the back of her head.
"You have exactly one hour to wire the funds, or I will paint the walls with her brains," he threatened in the video.
The camera panned to the side, revealing a small, barred window that looked out onto a distinct red brick alleyway.
Sarah paused the video and zoomed in on the reflection in the dirty glass.
"I know exactly where that is," Sarah said, grabbing a loaded handgun from the table.
It was an old meatpacking facility that our father used to own before the city condemned it.
Rebecca handed me a bulletproof vest and told me to put it on immediately.
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"We are going to get your friend back, but we have to expect heavy resistance," Rebecca warned.
As I strapped the heavy Kevlar over my broken ribs, the warehouse doors suddenly blew open with a massive explosion.
