The Abandoned place

Pascal could barely keep his thoughts straight as he followed Sasha into the night. The air was thick with tension, the weight of his decision pressing down on him like a suffocating blanket. He had agreed to something that went beyond anything he'd ever imagined—kidnapping a man to save his father's fortune. As he trailed behind Sasha, a part of him still wanted to believe that this was all some elaborate joke, a test of his nerve. But deep down, he knew it wasn't.

Sasha led him through the darkened streets, her silhouette cutting through the dim glow of streetlights with an unsettling calm. There was no hesitation in her steps, no sign of fear. It was as if she had done this before, as if she was perfectly at ease with what they were about to do.

"Where are we going?" Pascal asked, his voice betraying his unease.

Sasha glanced over her shoulder, her dark eyes glinting in the low light. "You'll see."

Pascal swallowed hard, his heart pounding in his chest. He had grown up in the lap of luxury, surrounded by everything he could ever want, but this was new territory. The bars, the yachts, the extravagant parties—all of that felt so far away now, as if it belonged to someone else's life.

After what felt like an eternity, Sasha stopped in front of a rundown, abandoned building on the edge of town. The windows were shattered, the walls covered in graffiti, and the air around them was eerily still. Pascal shivered, pulling his jacket tighter around him as they approached the entrance.

"This is it," Sasha said, her voice barely above a whisper. "Come on."

She pushed open the rusted door, and it creaked loudly in protest. Inside, the building was dark and cold, the only light coming from a single, flickering bulb hanging from the ceiling. The walls were covered in peeling paint, and the floor was littered with debris. It looked like the kind of place people came to disappear, and Pascal's stomach churned at the thought.

Sasha moved confidently through the dim space, her footsteps echoing off the walls. Pascal hesitated for a moment before following her, his heart thudding in his chest. He wasn't sure what he had expected, but this place felt like the setting for a nightmare. The air was heavy with a sense of foreboding, and every shadow seemed to conceal something dangerous.

Sasha led him to a small room at the back of the building. There, a rickety table stood in the center, and on it was a stack of papers. A single chair sat next to the table, as if waiting for someone. Sasha moved to the table and gestured for Pascal to sit.

Pascal obeyed, lowering himself into the chair. His hands trembled slightly as he looked up at Sasha, who was now rifling through the papers. After a moment, she pulled out a photograph and slid it across the table toward him.

"This is the man," she said.

Pascal picked up the photo, his fingers brushing against the grainy paper. The image showed a middle-aged man with sharp features and graying hair. He wore an expensive suit and carried himself with an air of authority. He didn't look like someone you could easily intimidate, let alone kidnap.

"Who is he?" Pascal asked, his voice tight.

Sasha leaned against the table, crossing her arms. "His name is Victor Kraus. He's a major player in the financial world—runs one of the investment firms that's pushing your father to the edge. If we take him, we gain leverage. The investors will back off. They'll have no choice."

Pascal's mind raced as he stared at the photo. Victor Kraus was a name he had heard before, mentioned in passing by his father and his father's associates. He was ruthless, a man who made or broke fortunes with a single decision. And now, Pascal was supposed to kidnap him?

"I don't know if I can do this," Pascal muttered, the words slipping out before he could stop them.

Sasha's eyes narrowed. "You don't have a choice, Pascal. This is your only way out. Your father's only way out."

Pascal's heart pounded in his chest. He felt like a trapped animal, cornered by circumstances far beyond his control. How had it come to this? He had spent his whole life avoiding responsibility, living in a bubble of privilege and excess. Now, he was being asked to do something that could destroy him.

"You said it yourself," Sasha continued, her voice soft but firm. "You want to save your father. This is how you do it."

Pascal looked up at her, feeling the weight of her words. Sasha's eyes were steady, unflinching. She wasn't afraid, and her confidence was unnerving. She had somehow become the anchor in the chaos that had overtaken his life, and despite his fear, Pascal found himself drawn to her determination.

"How are we supposed to pull this off?" he asked, trying to steady his voice.

Sasha straightened, pushing away from the table. She reached into her bag and pulled out a small, worn notebook. Flipping through the pages, she found what she was looking for and laid it out in front of him.

"We've been watching him for weeks," Sasha explained. "Victor Kraus is a creature of habit. He frequents a particular club on Thursday nights. It's private, exclusive—he's there almost every week without fail. Security is tight, but it's nothing we can't handle."

Pascal's stomach churned as she outlined the plan. They would intercept Kraus when he left the club, use a carefully timed distraction to lure his security away, and then take him to a safe house—a place not unlike the abandoned building they were standing in now. Once they had him, they would make the call to the investors, forcing their hand.

"You make it sound so simple," Pascal said, a hollow laugh escaping him.

"It is simple," Sasha replied, her voice calm and steady. "But it's dangerous. If we fail, it's over. For you, for your father—everything."

Pascal closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. This was it. There was no turning back now. He had agreed to this, and no matter how terrified he was, he couldn't walk away. His father's life—his entire world—depended on this insane, reckless plan.

Sasha's voice cut through his thoughts. "Pascal, look at me."

He opened his eyes, meeting her gaze. There was something in her expression—something unshakable. She wasn't just leading him into this plan; she was making sure he survived it.

"You can do this," she said, her tone softer now. "I wouldn't be here if I didn't believe that."

Pascal swallowed hard, feeling a strange sense of resolve settle in his chest. It wasn't confidence, exactly—more like a grim acceptance of the path laid out before him. He had never been a hero, never someone who took charge or made bold moves. But now, he had no choice.

"All right," he said quietly. "I'm in."

Sasha smiled, but it wasn't the kind of smile that offered comfort. It was the smile of someone who knew they were walking a dangerous line—and that there was no guarantee they would come out on the other side.

"Good," she said. "Because once we start, there's no stopping."

Pascal nodded, his hands gripping the edge of the table. He had crossed a line the moment he'd agreed to meet Sasha here, and now there was no going back.

Tomorrow, they would set the plan in motion. And no matter what happened, Pascal's life would never be the same again.

This chapter focuses on building tension between Pascal's growing fear and Sasha's unshakable confidence, emphasizing the gravity of their next move.