I was stirring a cup of tea, trying to shake off the lingering fear from the night before, when my phone buzzed. The notification was simple—an unknown number had sent me a video message.
My stomach sank. I hesitated for a moment, staring at the screen, before I finally tapped on the message.
The video began, and my heart dropped.
My parents were tied to chairs in what looked like an abandoned warehouse. Blindfolds covered their eyes, and duct tape sealed their mouths. My mom’s shoulders shook as if she was crying, and my dad’s head was bowed, his body stiff with tension.
The camera panned, and Victor’s face appeared. He was calm, almost casual, as he looked directly into the camera.
“This is your last warning, Lila,” he said, his voice cold and controlled. “Leave town, or they’ll pay the price. You’ve meddled enough. I won’t tell you again.”
The screen went black.
The phone nearly slipped from my hand as I sat there, frozen in horror. My mind raced, every possible scenario flashing through my head. My parents—tied up, helpless, and in Victor’s clutches.
I stood abruptly, pacing the small apartment as panic took hold. What was I supposed to do? How could I save them?
I didn’t know how long I’d been pacing when my phone buzzed again. It was a single text from the same unknown number.
“Tick tock, Lila. Make your choice.”
Anger flared in me, momentarily overpowering the fear. I wasn’t going to let Victor win. Not this time.
I grabbed my phone and dialed the police. When the operator picked up, I tried to keep my voice steady as I explained the situation.
“My parents have been kidnapped,” I said, pacing again. “I have a video. The man who took them threatened me.”
The operator transferred me to an officer, and I repeated my story, but as I finished, the officer’s response made my stomach sink.
“Miss, I understand your concern, but without any evidence of their location or physical harm, we can’t act. Do you have any idea where they might be?”
“No, I don’t,” I said, frustration creeping into my tone. “But I have a video of them tied up! Isn’t that enough?”
“Unfortunately, videos can be fabricated,” the officer replied. “If you receive any concrete information about their location, please contact us immediately.”
The line went dead, and I stared at my phone, disbelief washing over me. The police weren’t going to help. I was on my own.
The apartment felt smaller than ever as I sat down on the couch, trying to think of my next move. My hands trembled as I replayed the video, looking for any clue that might tell me where Victor had taken them.
The warehouse in the background looked generic—metal walls, stacks of old crates, dim lighting. Nothing distinctive enough to give me a lead.
Think, Lila. Think.
I was so lost in thought that I didn’t hear the knock at first. It was soft, barely audible, but it snapped me out of my trance.
I walked to the door cautiously, peeking through the peephole. There was no one there.
Frowning, I opened the door a crack, glancing around the empty hallway. That’s when I saw it—a small envelope taped to the door.
My heart sank as I pulled it off and opened it. Inside was a single photograph.
It was a still from the video—my parents, tied up and blindfolded, their faces pale and terrified.
Scrawled across the bottom of the photo in red ink were the words:
“Time’s running out.”