The air crackled with a tension thicker than the stale cigar smoke swirling in Bobby's office. A vein throbbed prominently in his temple, mirroring the pulsing red dashboard lights of the wrecked security car displayed on the projector screen.

"They got to the holding cell?" Bobby roared, his voice a gravelly growl. His thunderous voice sent shivers down the spines of his lieutenants, Scar and Ricco, who stood stiffly before him.


"Yes, sir," Scar stammered, his voice barely a squeak. "The security footage shows Sarah entering with a crowbar. It appears someone on the inside disabled the security protocols."

Bobby pounded his fist against the table, smashing glasses and sending a crystal ashtray skittering over its shiny surface. "Someone on the inside? You mean a goddamn mole!"

Ricco, interjected, "Sir, with all due respect, yelling won't get us anywhere. We need a plan."


Bobby glared at him, his fury momentarily subsiding. He knew Ricco was right. But the thought of Sarah, that rebellious little thorn in his side, slipping through his grasp filled him with a renewed surge of anger.

"Find the leak," he spat, his voice cold and laced with menace. "And find them fast. I want this facility swept clean. Every guard, every technician, everyone who could have aided this escape – grilled until they sing like canaries."


Scar and Ricco exchanged a worried glance. It wouldn't be nice to conduct a thorough internal questioning, and there was little to no possibility of finding the mole. Driven by terror and the prospect of a fat payoff, the majority of their team exhibited unwavering loyalty.

"And Sarah?" Ricco asked cautiously.

Bobby snorted. "Don't worry about that little runaway. She won't get far. Put out an APB, double the patrols on all the major routes north. They can't disappear into thin air."

A flicker of doubt crossed Scar's face. "But sir, what about Mr. Black? We haven't heard anything from him since…" his voice trailed off, not needing to finish the sentence.

Bobby's jaw clenched tight. The thought of Mr. Black, that meddling old fool, potentially aiding Sarah's escape was a bitter pill to swallow. But for now, he had bigger problems.

"Mr. Black can wait," he said through gritted teeth. "Right now, our priority is getting Sarah back. And making sure whoever helped her escape pays the ultimate price."

Scar and Ricco nodded grimly, understanding the unspoken threat. Bobby wasn't just after Sarah; he wanted to send a message. A message of absolute control, a message that defying him would lead to a swift and brutal end.

Bobby's anger weighed heavily in the air as they filed out of the office. The only sound in the room was the spectral glow of the security film that was continuously flashing on the screen, serving as a persistent reminder of their failure. They were only getting started in their search for Sarah and the traitor among them.

Like a tiger in a cage, Bobby paced the length of his office. The indignation had turned to cold, calculated rage and had started to simmer. Sarah's flight was a personal insult as much as a hassle. He had misjudged her, her commitment, and the extent to which she would go to support her family.

He pounded his hand against the chilly glass pane and looked down at the vast metropolis. The cityscape, usually a source of satisfaction, now seemed to mock him. His control, his power – all of it felt precarious.

"Find them, faster," he growled into his intercom, addressing no one in particular.

A clipped voice responded, "Search parties are combing the north route, sir. We've alerted all checkpoints."

Bobby sighed, the sound heavy with frustration. Retrieving Sarah through brute force was the obvious solution, but not the most satisfying. He wanted her to crawl back to him, broken and begging for his mercy. A flicker of wicked enjoyment sparked in his eyes at the concept.

He took a phone and punched in a number. "Victor? It's Bobby. We need to talk."

Moments later, a gruff voice boomed from the receiver. "Bobby. What's the fire?"

"A minor setback," Bobby replied, his voice smooth despite the agitation roiling within him. "My pet project decided to take a little vacation with her sister."

Victor chuckled, a harsh, humorless sound. "Sounds like your charm's lost its touch."

"Don't worry," Bobby said, a steely edge creeping into his voice. "She'll be back. But I want her back broken. Humiliated. Begging for my mercy."

The other end of the line fell silent for a long while. Finally, Victor remarked, "That doesn't sound like the Sarah you described.

"She's more resourceful than I gave her credit for," Bobby admitted. "But everyone has a breaking point. I need something that will make her come crawling back, something that will ensure she never defies me again."

Victor hummed thoughtfully. "There's always the leverage approach. Someone she cares about…"

Bobby's eyes narrowed. "The twins? No. Too risky. Mr. Black would never forgive me."

"Then you need to find something else, something precious to her," Victor said, his voice dripping with a hint of amusement. "Something you can dangle over her head, a little incentive for her return."

Bobby's mind raced. Images of Sarah flashed before him: her defiance, her loyalty to her family, her fierce protectiveness of her sister. He needed to exploit that protectiveness, to turn it into a weapon against her.

A terrifying thought suddenly began to grow in his head. His expression turned into a twisted smile. His voice low and sinister, "I have just the thing," he added.

Bobby let out an angry groan and slammed the phone down. Victor's suggestion to use leverage – someone Sarah cared about – had been the right approach, but using Olivia again was out of the question. Sarah had just proven how far she'd go to get her sister back.

He needed something closer to Sarah's heart, someone she wouldn't abandon readily. His eyes flashed, settling on a framed photograph on his desk. It showed Sarah, radiant and happy, with her arm around a kind-looking man in his late fifties. Her father, David.

A cruel smile played on Bobby's lips. "David Carter," he muttered, his voice laced with menace. "Seems it's time for a little reunion."

**Later that night**

Two burly figures, Ricco and another enforcer named Smash, crept through the shadows cast by the large oak tree outside David's suburban home.

"Are you sure this is the place, Smash?" Ricco whispered, his voice tight with apprehension.

"Positive," Smash replied, checking the address on a crumpled piece of paper. "Scouted it myself this morning."

Ricco surveyed the house. It was a peaceful two-story structure, its windows glowing with warm light. He couldn't shake off the feeling they were about to disrupt something sacred.

"You think Bobby's serious about this?" he asked, his voice barely a murmur.

"Who are we to question the boss?" Smash grunted, fiddling with a set of lockpicks.

Ricco exhaled sharply. He was loyal to Bobby, but kidnapping an innocent man sat uneasy in his stomach. The image of Sarah's pleading face flashed in his mind. This wasn't the way he wanted to see things unfold.

With a click, Smash managed to bypass the front door lock. He pushed the door open a crack, his hand reaching for his gun.

"Hold on," Ricco hissed, a sudden premonition of danger gripping him. "Something's not right."

Cautiously, The home remained strangely silent. The living room lights were on, but the furniture was arranged with neatness, as though no one had lived there for some time.

Smash's expression wrinkled in exasperation. "Empty? What a waste of time!"

A cold dread bloomed in Ricco's chest. "Wait," he said, his voice shaky. "Check the bedrooms."

They quickly searched the house, finding all the rooms meticulously emptied – clothes closets bare, beds stripped, even picture frames removed from the walls. It was as if David Carter had vanished into thin air.

"Damn it!" Smash swore, kicking a stray shoe in anger. "Someone tipped him off!"

Ricco's mind raced. Who could have warned David? A traitor in their midst, perhaps? Or maybe Sarah herself, somehow managing to send a message despite being on the run? The thought sent a shiver down his spine.

They stormed back outside, frustration and a simmering fear churning within them. "What now?" Smash demanded, his voice tight.

Ricco wiped a bead of sweat from his brow. "We need to report this back to Bobby. And this time, I'm suggesting some serious questioning of those guards at the facility."

"About a damn time," Smash grumbled, already picturing a long night of interrogation ahead.

As they sped away from the deserted house, the image of Sarah's determined face lingered in Ricco's mind. Maybe, just maybe, there was still hope they could get out from under Bobby's thumb.

Maybe Sarah, with her courage and resourcefulness, was the key to breaking free from their own gilded cage.

The news of David's disappearance hit Bobby like a physical blow. The smug satisfaction he'd imagined at having Sarah's world crumble around her morphed into a cold, unsettling fear. David wasn't just leverage; he was a gamble, a variable he hadn't accounted for.

"They weren't there?" Bobby roared, his voice echoing in the cavernous office. Ricco and Smash stood before him, their faces grim.

"Empty house, sir," Ricco reported, his voice barely a whisper. "No sign of a struggle, no forced entry. It's like Mr. Carter vanished into thin air."

Bobby slammed his fist on the desk, scattering papers across the polished surface. "Damn it all! Who tipped him off?"

Smash cleared his throat. "We suspect a leak at the facility, sir. Someone might have alerted Mr. Carter about the escape."

Bobby's gaze narrowed into a dangerous slit. A traitor within his ranks? That was the last complication he needed. He glared at Ricco and Smash, his voice laced with suspicion.

"You questioned the guards, right? You squeezed every bit of information out of them?"

Ricco hesitated. "We did a thorough interrogation, sir. But they all maintained their innocence."

Bobby slammed a hand down again, his eyes burning with fury. "Then you weren't thorough enough! We need answers, and we need them right now."

Taking a deep breath, he tried to bring himself back under control. "Change of plans," he said in a serious tone. "Get a team ready. We're paying a visit to Mr. Black."