My phone buzzed later that night. It was an unknown number. The message was simple and terrifying.
"We have your teacher. The story ends when we have the documents. You have until sunrise."
Attached was a photo. It was Ms. Liza, in her own living room, sitting in a chair. Her face was pale but defiant. Arturo Vega stood behind her, his hand resting on her shoulder, his face a cold mask. He was looking directly at the camera.
They weren't just silencing her. They were using her as a pawn. They knew our morality was our weakness. They knew we wouldn't let an innocent woman get hurt for our crusade. Vega was a professional. He understood pressure points.