Chapter 4 - The Race for Sarah
Pure, unadulterated panic surged through my veins as the train finally ground to a halt.
I sprinted up the concrete stairs and flagged down a passing taxi with trembling hands.
I offered the driver a hundred-dollar bill to break every single speed limit on the way to Sarah's apartment complex.
I desperately called Sarah's phone over and over again, but every call went straight to voicemail.
My imagination flooded with horrifying images of what Constance's ruthless mercenaries might be doing to my innocent sister.
The taxi slammed on its brakes outside the old brick apartment building.
I did not even wait for the car to fully stop before I threw the door open and bolted toward the entrance.
I bypassed the broken security gate and ran up three flights of stairs to apartment 3B.
The front door was completely wide open, its heavy deadbolt violently splintered from the wooden frame.
I crept inside cautiously, grabbing a heavy brass lamp from the hallway table to use as a weapon.
The living room was entirely trashed, with couch cushions sliced open and drawers emptied onto the floor.
I called out Sarah's name, praying to hear her voice over the chaotic silence of the ruined apartment.
A soft, terrified whimper echoed from the narrow coat closet in the hallway.
I pulled the door open and found Sarah huddled in the dark, clutching her knees to her chest.
She was crying hysterically, completely unharmed but deeply traumatized by the men who had just ransacked her home.
I pulled her to her feet and told her we had to leave the city immediately.
We rushed down the back fire escape, hoping to slip away unnoticed through the rear parking lot.
But as our feet hit the icy asphalt, the bright headlights of a black SUV violently blinded us.
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Kieran was standing casually in the freezing driveway, flanked by two heavily armed bodyguards.
He smiled coldly and aimed a deadly silver handgun directly at my sister's head.
