"Sarah and Derrick," he breathed, the words laced with a venomous hiss. "Those meddling fools!"

A dangerous glint flickered in his eyes. Fear morphed into a cold, calculating rage. He wouldn't let them destroy him. He wouldn't let them expose his carefully constructed facade.


"Smash," he murmured in a menacingly low tone. "I need you to take care of a problem."

With a question mark hanging in the air, Smash arched an eyebrow.

"Sarah and Derrick," Bobby spat out, his voice dripping with malice. "They're the ones behind the blackmail. I want them silenced. Permanently."


Smash's lips twitched into a thin smile. "Consider it done, sir."

Bobby felt a wave of sickness come over him, but he pushed it away immediately. He was unable to uncross the line he had crossed. But self-preservation had trumped conscience. Sarah and Derrick were liabilities, loose ends that needed to be tied up.


Later that night, as the shadows stretched long and the city slumbered, Smash stood before Bobby, a grim satisfaction etched on his face.

"The task force is assembled, sir," he reported. "Two teams. One for Sarah, one for Derrick. They'll be… dealt with efficiently."

Bobby nodded curtly, the taste of ash in his mouth. He had become the very monster he'd sworn to destroy, resorting to violence to maintain his ill-gotten gains. Yet, a sliver of unease gnawed at him.

"Make sure it's clean," he rasped, his voice barely a whisper.

"Discretion is our specialty, sir," Smash assured him with a chilling smile. "No loose ends, no witnesses."

As Smash melted back into the shadows, Bobby was left alone with the weight of his actions. He had set a chain of events in motion, a desperate gamble to cling to his crumbling empire.

*********************

As Derrick and Sarah finished a heated game of chess on the couch, the sound of tires screeching shot a shockwave through him.

Reaching for the poker on the mantle out of reflex, he sprang up. There was a crash that splintered and a horrible thump that came from the front door.

Menacingly gleaming in the twilight, the guns of two hefty figures with masked faces charged the living room. With a rough voice, one of them said, "Get down on the floor, now!"

With a gasp, Sarah let go of her chess piece, causing the board to screech. Derrick tried to keep his cool even though fear clenched his throat. "Who are you? What do you want?"

The masked figure closest to them sneered. "Don't waste our time. We're here for you two."

Suddenly, a flash of movement from the corner of Derrick's eye. He lunged towards Sarah, shoving her behind the couch just as a gunshot rang out. The bullet whizzed past his ear, burying itself in the wall.

Adrenaline surged through Derrick. He wasn't going to let these thugs hurt Sarah. He grabbed the poker from the mantle, its weight surprisingly reassuring in his hand.

"Stay down!" the other assailant roared, training his gun on Sarah's prone form.

Derrick sprang forward, using the coffee table as cover. He swung the poker with all his might, connecting solidly with the kneecap of the closer attacker. The man howled in pain, dropping his gun and clutching his leg.

His accomplice, momentarily stunned, hesitated.

A nervous hush filled the old cabin. With their hands clasped behind them, Sarah and Derrick sat on the floor with their backs against the chilly stone fireplace. Two hefty men towered over them, shadows covering their faces.

One man snarled, a switchblade gleaming menacingly in his fingers, "Don't make a peep. This won't hurt if you cooperate."

Sarah swallowed hard, fear prickling at her skin. "Who are you? What do you want?"

The second man, his face hidden beneath a worn baseball cap, sneered. "Just taking care of some loose ends, sweetheart."

Derrick's voice was strained but resolute. "This is a mistake. You have no idea what you're doing."

After exchanging glances, the man holding the switchblade let out a bark of laughter. "Yes, we are well aware of our actions. The wrong guy is the one you two are playing with. It's time to take a little lesson in loyalty."

The front door crashed loudly, just as the man with the switchblade lurched forward. There was a loud bang as the door gave way, shattering wood. . The two thugs froze, their eyes darting towards the sudden sound.

In a blur of motion, two figures clad in black stormed into the cabin. One, a woman with a determined set to her jaw, pointed a sleek pistol at the thugs, her voice ringing with authority.

"Police! Drop your weapons and get down on the ground!"

The men hesitated for a moment, their bravado momentarily dissolving into confusion. Before they could react, another two figures materialized at the doorway. These were uniformed officers, their faces grim, hands hovering near their holsters.

The thugs, realizing they were hopelessly outnumbered, exchanged a defeated glance. With a curse whispered, the man holding the switchblade threw his weapon aside, and the other man fell to his knees, exposing a pale face filled with panic behind his baseball cap.

He stumbled, "Alright, alright," and raised his hands in submission. "We were just… doing our job."

The officer who had spoken before, a woman with a nametag reading 'Detective Miller,' approached them cautiously, her weapon still trained on them.

"On the ground, now!" she barked, her voice leaving no room for argument.

The two thugs, their bluster gone, complied, sprawling face-down on the cold floor next to Sarah and Derrick.

Relief washed over Derrick like a tidal wave. The police, alerted by their call, had arrived just in the nick of time. He glanced at Sarah, who mirrored his expression of relief, a faint tremor in her hand betraying the lingering fear.

Detective Miller secured the thugs' weapons and cuffs while her partner ushered Sarah and Derrick to their feet.

"Are you alright?" Miller asked, her voice softening as she surveyed their shaken state.

"We're… shaken," Sarah admitted, her voice barely a whisper. "But we're alright, thanks to you."

Derrick nodded, his gaze flicking towards the subdued thugs. "Who sent them?"

Miller knelt down to examine the switchblade, her jaw tightening. "We're working on that. But let's just say you had some very persuasive enemies."

She helped Sarah and Derrick to a nearby couch, her gaze flickering around the room, taking in the ransacked state of the cabin.

"It seems like your suspicions were right," she said, her voice grim. "You were in danger."

Sarah met her gaze, a newfound determination burning in her eyes. "We won't back down," she declared. "Not now. Not ever."

Derrick placed a hand on hers, offering silent support. He was aware that the fight was far from finished, but they had a chance because the police were involved and their resolve was unwavering.

The attacker's mastermind was still at large, but the men who had been sent to quiet them were captured. They were prepared to play even though the rules had changed and the stakes had increased.

***********************

The news of the police intervention at the cabin spread like wildfire. Bobby, sequestered in his opulent office, received the update with a mixture of dread and relief. Relief that Sarah and Derrick were alive, dread that the police were now actively involved.

Smash, his ever-present shadow, stood beside him, a scowl etched on his face. "The mission failed," he reported bluntly.

Bobby slammed his fist on the desk, scattering papers across the polished surface. "Failed? They were supposed to be silenced! How could you mess this up?!"

Smash remained stoic. "The police intervention was unforeseen. We underestimated their resolve."

"Underestimated?!" Bobby roared. "Now they'll be crawling all over this, sniffing out the truth!"

He paced the room like a caged animal, frustration and fear gnawing at him. He couldn't afford a police investigation. The incriminating evidence Sarah and Derrick possessed could bring his entire house of cards crashing down.

"We need to move fast," he said, his voice laced with a dangerous urgency. "We need to find a way to silence them, permanently this time."

Smash, however, shook his head. "That's not an option anymore, sir. With the police involved, any attempt on their lives would be traced back to us. It would be a suicide mission."

Bobby stared at him, his face contorted in a mask of fury. "Then what do we do? Just sit here and wait for them to arrest me?"

"No, sir," Smash said calmly. "We change tactics. We focus on discrediting them. Plant rumors, fabricate evidence, paint them as the unstable ones, the ones making false accusations."

A flicker of hope ignited in Bobby's eyes. "Discredit them? You think that could work?"

"It's worth a try," Smash said. "If we can sow enough doubt in the minds of the authorities and the company board, it might buy us some time. Time to come up with a new plan, a way to disappear, to leave the country with enough money to start a new life."

Bobby's eyes narrowed. The possibility of a leak within his inner circle sent shivers down his spine. He cast a suspicious glance at Smash, who met his gaze unflinchingly.

"Who else knows about… our little arrangement with the thugs?" Bobby asked, his voice laced with suspicion.

"Just us, sir," Smash replied evenly.

Bobby wasn't entirely convinced, but he had more pressing concerns. The police were onto him, and Sarah and Derrick wouldn't back down.

He needed a new plan, a desperate gamble to salvage the situation.