Chapter 3

David finished reading, his face a mask of disbelief and then, stark terror.

He looked from the letter to Mark, then to me. His usual composure was gone, shattered.

"Mark, you absolute fool," he breathed, but the fury was diluted now, mixed with a chilling fear. "But... this letter..."

He ran a hand through his perfectly styled hair, messing it up. "We have to protect Emily. Even from herself! This is... this is a suicide mission."

My heart sank. Here it came. The twisted logic. The panic.

"Maybe," David continued, his voice gaining a frantic edge, "maybe if they know she's being watched, if they know people are aware she's in that area, they'll call off whatever deal she's trying to infiltrate. They'll back off."

"No, David!" I cried, struggling to my feet, my head throbbing. "That's not how it works! You'll expose her! You'll make it worse!"

He wasn't listening. His eyes were wild. "I have a contact... someone who can spread the word in the underworld. Just a general location. Docklands district. That' s what the letter implied, right? Near the docks."

"Don't you dare!" I shrieked. "I'll call her supervisor! I'll call Director Miller!"

I fumbled for my phone, the one I' d left on the kitchen counter.

Mark moved first. He grabbed my arm, his grip surprisingly strong. "Sarah, stop. You're not thinking clearly."

David was already on his own phone, his fingers flying. "It's for her own good. To scare them off."

"You're insane! Both of you!" I twisted, trying to break free from Mark.

David finished typing and hit send. A sick finality settled in the air.

He looked at me, his face a mixture of fear and a terrible, misguided resolve. "It's done. It' s a warning. It will keep her safe."

"You've just signed her death warrant!" I sobbed, tears of rage and despair streaming down my face.

I tried to fight them, to get to a phone, to do anything.

They were stronger. They restrained me, David' s tech-entrepreneur mind now fully consumed by panic, Mark' s weak will solidified by shared terror.

"We can't let you interfere, Sarah," David said, his voice strained. "You're hysterical. You'll make things worse."

They dragged me, struggling and screaming, into Emily's old room. The room with the safe. The room where this nightmare began.

Mark found some old rope in the closet, probably from some long-forgotten camping trip.

They tied me to the heavy wooden chair in the corner.

"It's for your own good," Mark repeated, his voice hollow. He wouldn't meet my eyes.

David just looked grim. "We have to protect the family. Emily's letter... it says they'll come after us."

They left me there, tied up, my phone confiscated.

The silence of the room was deafening, broken only by my ragged breathing and the echo of their catastrophic stupidity.

I was trapped. Again. And Emily was walking into an ambush. Again.