The crunch of gravel under my feet seems unnaturally loud as I step out of the car, the late afternoon sun casting long shadows across the quiet suburban street. A knot of anxiety tightens in my stomach.

I turn back to the driver's seat, giving Julio a small smile. His eyes, dark with worry, meet mine as I close the car door. The golden light should make this neighborhood feel warm and inviting, but instead, it only heightens the sense of unease gnawing at me.

This morning's conversation with Rafael replays in my mind. When he told me I'd be coming here with Julio to check on Carla, I nearly protested. Julio's recent confession about his obsession with her still set off alarm bells in my head. But one look into Rafael's concerned eyes had silenced my objections. I understood then - Julio was coming because his worry for Carla was genuine, perhaps even necessary for what we might find.

I approach the bulky, intimidating man standing guard at the entrance to Carla's house. He's dressed in a black suit, stretched tightly over his muscular frame, a crisp white shirt peeking beneath the slim black tie. His face is set in a permanent scowl, his eyes cold and watchful. The property, fitting for an inspector of police in Mexico, looms behind him—an imposing two-story home with white stucco walls, a terracotta roof, and a perfectly manicured lawn enclosed by a wrought-iron fence. The house is elegant but carries a sense of guarded isolation like its walls are hiding secrets.

I'm relieved Julio's still in the car. If my worst fears about Carla turn out to be true, it's safer for everyone if he stays put. I can almost picture it now—Julio, overcome with worry and frustration, losing his temper right on this doorstep.

I speak to the guard in Spanish, telling him I'm here to see Carla. He disappears inside, and less than two seconds later, a man I recognize as Carla's husband steps out. His appearance catches me off guard—he's sweating, his hair disheveled, and his shirt partially unbuttoned, as though he's been doing something physically demanding.

"Hi, you must be her new American friend. Frankie, right?" he says in a thick Mexican accent, his fake enthusiasm not going unnoticed.

"Yes, that's me. How did you know?" I ask, puzzled. I hadn't given the guard that much information.

"Because you're the only one who would dare visit," he replies, and my brow furrows at the underlying menace in his words, though I quickly mask my confusion with a practiced smile.

"I haven't heard from Carla in a while, so I thought I'd check up on her. Is she alright?" I ask, stretching my neck to look behind him, but he blocks my view of the house's interior. I force a smile and meet his gaze. That's when I see it—blood smeared faintly across his cheek like he'd hastily wiped it away. My heart skips a beat. That blood isn't his.

Before he can reply, my phone pings. I glance down briefly, my stomach sinking as I read the message: "Help me."

The text is from Carla's number. Panic rises inside me. What's happening?

"She's fine—just down with a fever," Diego says, snapping me out of my thoughts. "Once she's feeling better, I'll make sure she calls you," he adds, already moving to close the door.

"Wait!" I call, my voice sharper than intended. "That's nice, but can I still see her? Just to make sure she's really okay? If I don't, I won't be able to sleep tonight." I need to get inside. Carla is in trouble. I don't know how I'll help, but I have to try.

He looks like he's about to refuse, so I press on. "Please, I won't disturb her. Just a quick peek, and I'll leave."

He releases a sigh, his forced smile never faltering. "Sure, why not?" he says, swinging the door open wider.

"Thank you. I'll only be a minute," I say as I step inside.

The gasp that escapes my lips is loud enough to be heard outside.

"You should've listened to me," Diego says, his voice dripping with smug satisfaction. I spin around, my heart leaping into my throat as I face him. The space now feels claustrophobic and menacing. Diego's features are twisted into a sinister smile that sends ice through my veins.

Instinctively, I start backing away, my fingers trembling as they move across my phone's screen. I'd prepared for this, having Julio's number ready for a distress text, but I never imagined needing it so soon. The plush carpet muffles my retreating steps, each inch between us feeling both like a mile and not nearly far enough.

Diego's voice, laced with a cruel satisfaction, cuts through the tense silence. "They might not have asked me to bring you in, but I doubt they won't be happy to see you." His words are cryptic, but the menace is clear. As he reaches for me, his fingers barely grazing my arm, adrenaline surges through my veins. I bolt, my heart pounding in my ears as I take the stairs two at a time, my only thought to put as much distance between us as possible.

I burst through the first door I see, slamming it shut and fumbling with the lock. The click of the mechanism sliding into place offers little comfort as I hear Diego's heavy footsteps approaching. His voice, muffled but unmistakable, sends a chill through me. "This is my house, Frankie. I would find you in a heartbeat."

My own heart is racing so fast I can barely breathe, threatening to burst from my chest. Panic claws at my throat as the gravity of my situation sinks in. What have I done? Maybe I should've gone to the car and talked to Julio about helping instead of walking into the lion's den alone.

With shaking hands, I check my phone, desperate to see if my plea for help went through. But before I can make sense of the screen, a sound stops me cold. My eyes dart around the dimly lit room, taking in the heavy drapes and ornate furniture that suddenly seem more like potential hiding spots than decor.

"Is anyone in here?" I call out, my voice barely above a whisper. I inch further into the room, hyper-aware of Diego's continued assault on the door. The magnitude of my situation crashes over me – I haven't even found Carla or her daughter yet, and now I'm trapped.

Another sound, clearer this time – someone sniffling. Hope and fear war within me as I ask, "Carla, is that you? Are you alright?" I make my way to a large wardrobe, its dark wood looming before me. Just as I pull open the door, revealing Maria's terrified face, a strong hand grabs me by the neck. The world spins as I'm thrown across the room, pain exploding through my body as I hit the floor.

I look up in horror to see Diego standing over me, the splintered remains of the door behind him. Before I can regain my footing, he's on me again, this time gripping my hair painfully. The sharp crack of his hand across my face leaves me reeling.

"You couldn't just wait for her call, could you?" he snarls, landing another blow. My cheek burns, and I taste blood as my lip splits open. Desperate, I thrash against him, screaming, "Don't touch me!"

His grip only tightens as he sneers, "I doubt he would mind if you came with a few bruises. All he would care about is having Rafael's precious pet." The words make no sense, but before I can process them, his fist connects with my face. Pain explodes through my nose, warm blood trickling down my face as my vision swims.

"Oh my God!" I cry out, my mind reeling. What is happening? Why is he doing this? Who is he talking about?

I shake off the pain, forcing my scattered thoughts into focus. This isn't the time for confusion – I need to escape and find Carla. My eyes snap open just as Diego winds up for another blow. Expecting it to land on my face, I'm caught off guard when pain explodes in my belly instead. I grit my teeth, fighting through the agony. My hand fumbles desperately, fingers closing around a heavy book nearby. Summoning every ounce of strength, I swing it hard, connecting with Diego's head with a sickening thud.

He staggers, momentarily stunned, his hand flying to his now bleeding scalp. I don't waste a second. Scrambling to my feet, I lunge for the wardrobe, scooping Maria into my arms. Her small body trembles against mine as I bolt through the splintered doorway. I grab anything within reach – vases, picture frames, a small side table – hurling them behind us to slow Diego down.

"Come back here, you bitch!" Diego's enraged snarl echoes through the hallway, but I don't dare look back. My legs burn as I race down the stairs, Maria clinging to me like a lifeline. As we reach the bottom, my heart leaps – there's Julio emerging from the kitchen, but the relief is short-lived. In his arms is Carla, bloodied and unconscious.

"Oh my God! What did he do to her?" I cry, instinctively turning Maria's face away from the horrific sight of her mother.

Julio's eyes blaze with fury. "I don't know, but I'm going to kill the fucking bastard," he growls, his gaze fixed on something behind me. I spin around to see Diego at the top of the stairs, his face split in a chilling grin.

"Let's see how you both leave this house alive," Diego taunts, descending the steps with predatory slowness. Panic surges through me as I rush to the front door, yanking frantically at the handle only to find it locked.

"Julio, break it down!" I yell, but he remains rooted in place, glaring daggers at Diego. I want to scream in frustration – now isn't the time for a standoff! We need to get out of here now. I don't even know how we'll deal with the guards, but we'll figure it out once we're outside. That's if Julio didn't already deal with them—I wonder how they let him in if he didn't.

"I can see you have a death wish," Diego sneers, reaching the landing. The metallic click of a gun being cocked cuts through the air.

I gasp, instinctively tightening my grip on Maria. But Julio doesn't even flinch, his eyes locked on Diego with deadly intent. The tension is suffocating. Then, without warning, all hell breaks loose.

The air erupts with gunfire, bullets tearing through walls and shattering windows. I dive for cover, shielding Maria with my body. A sharp pain lances through my arm – a bullet grazed me, but there's no time to dwell on it. I press Maria closer, using every inch of myself to protect her as the house is ripped apart in the chaos.

Then, as abruptly as it started, silence falls. The acrid smell of gunpowder hangs in the air, mingling with the dust of shattered plaster. My ears ring in the sudden quiet, my heart pounding so hard I can feel it in my throat. What the hell just happened?

The thunderous crash of the door flying off its hinges jolts me from my protective crouch. Slowly, I lift myself from the ground, turning toward the door. There stands Rafael, his expression confused—until his eyes land on me. His gaze sweeps over my body, and that confusion morphs into something darker: anger, a fury like I've never seen before.

I blink, and in two strides, Rafael is in front of me. His fingers graze my lips, and I wince as the fresh cut stings beneath his touch. His hand moves across my cheeks and the arm where the bullet grazed me. Then, the most unexpected thing happens—Rafael pulls me into a hug. A hug so bone-crushing, it's a mystery I'm still whole.

"Who did this to you?" Rafael's voice is barely above a whisper, but it carries a rage so potent I can almost feel it vibrating in the air between us.

"Diego," I manage to breathe out, my voice shaky. As I turn to indicate where Diego had been, the sight before me sends a fresh wave of shock through my system. Diego lies motionless on the ground, a single, precise bullet hole centered between his lifeless eyes.

"Fuck!" Rafael's curse echoes my own disbelief at the scene.

From across the room, Julio's voice cuts through the tension. "Capo," he calls out, his breath coming in ragged pants as he still cradles Carla's limp form. "I don't think the fucker worked for Thomas."