Screen Runner

FOUR: THE PLAN

Meanwhile, at Jasmine's house, Patrick clung to his phone, his worry mounting with each passing minute. He paced back and forth, unable to shake the gnawing anxiety that something had gone wrong.

"She's fine, Dad," Mark said, trying to calm him down. "It takes time to infiltrate Samson's security network and gather intel."

"I get that, Mark," Patrick replied, his voice tinged with pride and fear. "But it's not like her to not check in. It's been almost seven hours since she left. This Samson Walt case has haunted me since Ariana died."

"You've got to stop blaming yourself for the evidence disappearing," Mark snapped, his frustration boiling over. "Jasmine is out there doing her part, even though she's not a detective, a spy, or an informant. You trained her to survive and hold a gun, but she never wanted this life."

Patrick stopped in his tracks, the weight of Mark's words hitting him hard. He turned to face his son, the lines of worry etched deeply on his face. "I know she wasn't trained for this life, but she's in the thick of it now," he said, his voice laced with anxiety. "I just can't shake the feeling that something could go wrong. What if she's faced with a situation she's not ready for? What if -"

Mark cut him off, his frustration bubbling to the surface. "What if? What ifs can drive you mad, Dad! Jasmine is strong and resourceful. She's taken on challenges before that were way above her head, and she came through them."

"What if Samson was responsible, and Victor was trying to right the wrongs?" Patrick mused, oblivious to the fact that Jasmine had worked out a plan he hadn't calculated.

A knock at the door interrupted their conversation. Patrick grabbed his pistol and approached the door cautiously. "Who's there?" he demanded.

"My name is Lynn Loften. I work for Samson Walt," a sweet yet urgent voice replied. "We've been sent by Samson to take you into protective services."

"We have very little time to explain; eyes are everywhere," a second voice interjected.

"What has Samson done to my daughter?!" Patrick's protective tone struck a chord, "I'll put lead in your skulls if a hair is harmed on her."

"I assure you no harm has befallen her," a third voice spoke out. "My name is Sebastian Holland. Allow me to escort you to protective security."

Patrick's grip on the pistol tightened as he stood at the door, his heart racing with instinctual fear for Jasmine's safety. The tension crackled in the air, and he felt the weight of every second as he assessed the situation. These strangers claimed to work for Samson Walt—someone he had come to view with suspicion but who now seemed to hold the key to his daughter's safety.

"I don't trust you," Patrick replied, his voice steady but his hand still ready to act. "What proof do you have that she's safe? Why should I believe you?"

Lynn stepped forward, her hands raised in a gesture of peace. "Mr. Wyler, I understand your concern. But I promise, we are here to help. Jasmine is safe, and we need to get you and Mark to a secure location. Samson has arranged for your protection, and it's vital that we leave now."

Sebastian added, "The longer we stay here, the more exposed you become. Samson is taking this very seriously, and he wants to ensure that you're kept out of harm's way."

Patrick's mind raced, torn between the instinct to protect his family and the urgency of their situation. "If you truly care about Jasmine, then you'll allow me to see her before we go anywhere," he demanded, his voice edged with desperation.

"I can assure you she is safe, but we can't risk being here any longer," Sebastian insisted, his expression firm. "Samson has eyes everywhere, and Victor Langston is not someone you want to anger. We have to move quickly."