The men nodded and quickly dispersed, their determination renewed. Atlas watched them go, a sinister resolve hardening in his eyes.
"Beatrice, you won't evade me for long," he whispered to the darkness. "We'll find you, no matter the cost."
The barking and howling of the dogs intensified, drawing Atlas's attention. He made his way swiftly toward the commotion, his long coat billowing behind him.
As he approached, his men were gathered around, their flashlights illuminating a small area on the ground.
"We found something, sir," one of the men called out.
Atlas pushed through the crowd and saw the object in question—a bloodied scalpel lying in the dirt. The sight of it sent a chill down his spine.
He crouched down, his gloved hand carefully picking up the scalpel. The blood was fresh, glistening under the harsh light of the flashlights.
He examined the scalpel closely, his eyes narrowing as he considered the implications. "This is hers," he murmured, his voice barely audible. "Beatrice's."
One of the men stepped forward, his face anxious. "Do you think she's injured, sir?"
Atlas didn't respond immediately, his mind racing. The scalpel was a clue, but it raised more questions than answers.
Was Beatrice hurt, or had she used it in self-defense?
"Find her," he commanded, his voice steely. "And bring her to me alive."
"Yes, Sir!
*
However, until this moment, Beatrice's whereabouts remained unknown. Atlas sat in his office, twirling the bloodied scalpel in his hand, his mind replaying the events of three days ago.
"Beatrice, wherever you are, this ends soon," he whispered to himself, his resolve hardening. "You can't hide forever."
Despite their exhaustive efforts, Beatrice was still nowhere to be found. His men had searched everywhere, using every resource and method available, but there was no trace of her.
"Then all the CCTV footage disappeared too," Atlas muttered to herself. "There's no way she could have done that alone. She must have had help."
Atlas nodded, deep in thought. "Whoever helped her has their own agenda.
Atlas leaned back in his chair, his eyes fixed on the scalpel. The frustration of the fruitless search gnawed at him. He had hoped the bloodied scalpel would lead to a breakthrough, but instead, it had only deepened the mystery.
"Where could she be?" he muttered under his breath, the question echoing in the silent room.
He never knew Beatrice was resourceful and determined, and he had underestimated her ability to vanish so completely. The longer she remained hidden, the more his frustration grew.
He needed to find her, not just to settle the score, but to regain control over a situation that was slipping through his fingers.
"And who powerful enough could possibly hide Beatrice this thoroughly?" Atlas thought, frustration simmering beneath his calm exterior.
His contemplation was abruptly interrupted when the door to his office burst open.
Victoria, Beatrice's younger sister, stormed in, pushing past Atlas's men who struggled to restrain her.
"Sir, we're sorry," one of his men stammered. "Mrs. Victoria Carter insisted on coming through."
"Let her in," Atlas commanded with a dismissive wave of his hand, his curiosity piqued.
Victoria marched forward, her eyes blazing with anger. She was a striking contrast to her sister, with her sharp features and determined demeanor. Dressed in an elegant yet practical outfit, she exuded both sophistication and resolve.
The tension in the room was palpable as she stood before Atlas, her chest heaving with indignation. "Where is she, Atlas?" Victoria demanded, her voice unwavering. "Where is my sister?"
Atlas leaned back in his chair, twirling the scalpel once more, his eyes cold and calculating. "Victoria, to what do I owe the pleasure?" he asked, his tone dripping with false politeness.
"Don't play games with me," she snapped. "I know you have something to do with her disappearance. Tell me where she is!"
Atlas's gaze hardened, the playful facade slipping. "If I knew where Beatrice was, she wouldn't be missing," he replied coolly. "And you should be careful with your accusations, Victoria. They could get you into trouble."
Victoria's fists clenched at her sides. "I won't leave until I get answers. Beatrice is my sister, and I will do whatever it takes to find her."
Atlas stood up, his imposing figure towering over her. "What a lovely sister. You think you can waltz in here and demand answers? You're out of your depth, Victoria."
"So, you're telling me you still haven't found my sister?" Victoria demanded, her voice sharp and accusatory.
Atlas shook his head. "No, we haven't."
"I told you from the beginning, kill her on the spot! Why did you transfer her to the sanatorium instead?" Victoria's frustration was palpable, her anger barely contained.
Atlas studied her, his expression inscrutable. "Why are you so eager for Beatrice to die?" he asked, his voice calm but laced with curiosity.
"Do you really need to ask?" Victoria snapped. "Her death would mean I get everything!"
Atlas raised an eyebrow. "Haven't you already gotten everything you want without her having to die?"
Victoria's eyes narrowed, her fury intensifying. "No, as long as she's alive, she's a threat. She could come back and ruin everything I've worked for. I can't take that risk."
Atlas leaned back, considering her words. "Interesting. So this is all about securing your position and eliminating potential threats."
Victoria crossed her arms, her stance defiant. "Yes, and I won't rest until I know she's no longer a problem."
Atlas sighed, a mixture of frustration and intrigue playing across his face.
"Well, Victoria, we both have our reasons for wanting to find Beatrice. But let me remind you, this is my game, and I make the rules. If you want to ensure she's out of the picture, you'll have to play by them. And I'll tell you this: if I find out you're hiding her or interfering with my search, there will be consequences."
Victoria met his gaze unflinchingly. "Do your worst, Atlas. But know this: I'll find her before you do. And when I do, I'll make sure she's dead."
*