"I DON'T KNOW - I DON'T KNOW ANYTHING - AAAAAAAAUNGH -"
The people that took her want to keep Bella alive, if they want to know things from her. The twins can do more good if they get a good grasp of the situation instead of going in proverbial guns blazing. Savannah's aware of this. She hisses her explanation of it to Darren, under her breath.
"And then," she finishes, still in a murmur, "once we have a good position, we kill them all."
"Fine," growls Darren, after a pause, sounding like he hates the word.
Back to investigating. Someone in charge, they need someone in charge. Someone to stop Bella's torture.
Here is a whistling fellow in a business suit with a coffee mug approaching the coffee machine.
Why, hello, whistling fellow in a business suit. How important does he look? Like he's in charge of anything?
"I DON'T KNOW ANYTHING! WHAT DO YOU WANT?!"
Enough of one, yeah. Hand squeeze, gentle pull of held hands in the fellow's direction. Hey, Darren, think we should?
The spell's so no one will hear the fellow scream.
Savannah releases their held hand, waits for Darren to be finished with the spell, and then, after it goes - the fellow is tackled to the ground.
"Hello," purrs Savannah, into his ear. "We have some questions for you."
She's invisible, but he gets to feel the knife, at his neck. Look at it, so sharp. So insistently at his neck.
"Wh-what? Who's...?"
Meanwhile: loud jagged sobbing.
"The lovely lady with a sharp, pointy knife and a silencing spell, that's who. Tell me, who's in charge of this? Who thought it was a good idea to snatch up the sphinx?"
(Darren is so glad that a breaking heart isn't audible. He wishes there was a way to tell Bella to hold on, that they'll be there, they'll be there soon. Just hold on, Bella.)
"M- no, I can't -" the gentleman in the suit says, struggling, trying to feel around for the invisible knife and pull it away from his neck.
"You can't? Are you sure? Because I can always ask your, hmmmm..." She slams the offending hand into the ground with her palm, knife threatening the pinky finger. "Talkative pinky finger, here. Look at it, pretty, isn't it?"
Does she draw blood? Oh yes, oh yes she does.
And screaming and screaming and screaming -
"Don't worry about your boss right now, just tell us -" Slice, that'll hurt, oops, clumsy her. "Where a person that can stop the torture on our lovely screaming sphinx is. Or you get to start putting her to shame."
(But not as loudly as the sphinx.)
He doesn't talk.
She starts a panicked gabble through what sounds like it has to be the hundredth time of saying she thinks it was her mom, she thinks her mom didn't know, she doesn't have any aunts or uncles or live grandparents, she thinks that side of the family is some combination of English and possibly Swiss but not for generations and she doesn't know she doesn't know she doesn't know.
"This is taking too long," growls Darren. "Invisibility's about up. She's in pain, we can't just -"
"I have another idea," says Savannah, quietly. "Hey, man in suit. Last chance to squeal, or bad things happen."
And then she slices his throat wide open.
She turns the man over, to be face up, probably still spluttering. Good thing Savannah's not squeamish.
And now Bella's howling again.