The rescue

The dark woods were eerily silent, the only sound being the hum of the car’s engine. Chase’s eyes scanned the road ahead, his mind still preoccupied with the events of the day. As CEO, he had presided over the discussion, guiding his senior executives through a thorough analysis of the company’s quarterly performance. He recalled the sharp lines of his CFO’s graphs, the upward trends and downward dips that told the story of his company’s growth and challenges. The discussions, the debates, and the decisions made around the polished conference table all replayed in his mind like a video on loop.

 Chase sat comfortably behind the wheel, feeling the gentle breeze rustling his hair as the window rolled down, allowing the fresh air to fill the vehicle. As Chase drove, the wind whispered through the open window, creating a soothing melody that harmonized with the hum of the engine. With each passing mile, his worries faded away, replaced by a deep sense of calm and freedom. Chase felt himself relaxing in this serene atmosphere.

 As he rounded a bend, a familiar black SUV caught his attention. Chase’s instincts kicked in. He recognized the vehicle, and his eyes narrowed as he spotted Fabion, a notorious sniper, standing outside the SUV. A young woman was being dragged out of the SUV by Fabion and another man. They were taking her deeper into the woods. Chase knew he had to act fast. He quickly assessed the situation and came up with a plan. He slowly drove past the SUV, pretending not to notice them.

As Chase drove past, he was caught in the middle of his heart and his head. A part of him felt compassionate for the poor young lady. He knew what Fabion would do, he was all about bloodshed and elimination. Or he could just pretend he never saw the gun Fabion was holding, or the bloodstained white shirt the young lady wore. Chase turned on his car stereo and enjoyed the rest of his cruise, distracting himself from the shady sight that still tortured his mind.

Two hours later as Chase tossed himself in bed, he couldn’t help but still wonder about the young lady he had seen. Somehow, he felt convinced that Fabion’s presence had some sort of connection to Chris. Chris, his twin brother. The one he just couldn’t stand. Chase’s animosity towards Chris, his twin brother, stemmed from a deep-seated feeling of neglect. Growing up, their parents had always seemed to favour Chris, showering him with attention and affection that Chase felt he could never quite match. It wasn’t that their parents hated Chase, or that he was not well taken care of, but rather that they had an obvious preference for Chris. This perceived favouritism had left Chase feeling unloved and unappreciated, fostering a sense of resentment and bitterness towards his twin brother that had only grown stronger with time.

Four years prior, the tragic loss of their parents had left an indelible mark on Chase’s life. The reading of their will had revealed a shocking disparity in the distribution of their estate, with Chase inheriting a mere 45% compared to Chris’s 55%. This blatant favouritism, even in death, had felt like a crushing blow to Chase’s already fragile sense of self-worth. Feeling betrayed and unloved, Chase had made the painful decision to sever all ties with Chris, seeking a fresh start and a chance to forge his own path in life, free from the toxic dynamic of their familial relationships.

As he came back to his senses and present moment, in a bid of determination and bravery, he got out of bed, a sudden realization in his mind. At once, he paced down the hallway and rushed down the majestically curved mahogany staircase, his car keys in his hands. Chase rushed to his Rolls-Royce Phantom, his feet pounding the ground in urgency. He quickly unlocked the door, slid into the driver’s seat, and started the engine. As he sped down the road, the tires screeched in protest as he took the turns, his heart racing with anticipation. He knew every second counted, and he pushed the car to its limits, his eyes fixed on the road ahead. Finally, he screeched to a halt at the edge of the woods, leapt out of the car, and slid into the dense woods, his senses on high alert as he searched for the woman he suspected was in danger.

 He rushed to the girl’s side, his eyes scanning her for any injuries. She was lying on the ground, her body battered and bruised. Even in the faint moonlight, Chase could clearly see how terribly her face was swollen, with a huge gash above her left eyebrow. The bullet wound was deep, and blood was pouring out, pooling on the ground beneath her head. Her lip was split, and her nose was broken. Blood was streaming down her face, mixing with tears and dirt.

Chase gently turned her over, and his eyes scanned her body. Her clothes were torn and bloodstained, and he could see the faint outline of bruises on her arms and legs. The girl’s eyes flickered open, and she looked up at Chase with a mixture of fear and pain. She tried to speak, but her voice was barely a whisper. Chase quickly pulled out a handkerchief from his pocket and pressed it against the gash on her forehead. He applied gentle pressure, trying to stem the bleeding. But it was too late. The girl’s eyes rolled back, and she passed out, her body limp in Chase’s arms as his face twisted in anguish.