Page 24 of The Advocate’s Ultimatum

Sabre was still thinking about the case when she walked into the courthouse. This wasn’t normal. Even kids who tried to disappear left some kind of trace—school records, medical visits, prior contacts with the court, something.

Bay had claimed Sabre represented her. Not might have. Not could have. Had.

And yet there was no record.

The courthouse noise hit her as she walked through the metal detector; voices, footsteps, doors opening and closing. It was all normal, routine, and predictable. But this case wasn’t any of those things.

“Sabre.”

She turned.

Bob stood a few feet away, file in hand. “You look like you just found out Santa Claus isn’t real.”

Sabre walked over. “I checked the records for Bay Mercer, and she’s not there.”

Bob tilted his head. “So, what does that tell you?”

“She lied.”

“Or,” Bob said, “someone is lying to her.”

“That’s worse.”

Bob gave a small, humorless smile. “Much worse.”

“She didn’t just ask for me,” Sabre said. “She insisted on me.”

“Which means either she’s been watching you or someone else has.”

Sabre had been thinking the same thing.

Bob pushed up his glasses. “Are you still thinking about taking the case?”

Sabre shook her head. “I don’t know enough yet.”

“Fair. But if something feels off, it probably is.”

Sabre met his eyes. “I know.”

She headed down the hall, already working through possibilities. A girl with no records. A story that didn’t hold. A connection that shouldn’t exist.

Sabre went to Department One and completed a quick review. She was halfway to her car when her phone buzzed. She pulled it from her bag, expecting a routine message. The message was from a number she didn’t recognize.

Take the case… or the girl dies.

Sabre stopped walking. The world around her kept moving; cars passing, voices carrying across the parking lot, but everything inside her went still.

She read the message again. No explanation, no signature, just a command and a threat.

Sabre tightened her grip on the cell. This wasn’t about a confused teenager. It wasn’t about a bad decision in a moment of fear. Her involvement was deliberate. Someone had brought that girl into her courtroom and made sure Sabre noticed.

Now they were making sure she stayed. Sabre looked back toward the courthouse. The building loomed behind her, solid and familiar, a place she had just decided to step away from.

As she slowly lowered the phone, the question in her mind shifted. It wasn’t whether she should take the case. It was whether she had ever really been given a choice.

Take the case… or the girl dies. The words didn’t change the second time she read them. Or the third.

She tapped a contact.