BOOK 2
Trapped within the iron grip of the notorious Morroto family, Veronica Garcia's fate hangs precariously in the balance. Days bleed into nights in the suffocating darkness of her prison, where despair threatens to consume her spirit. Each pass...
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"OI, PETROV! We've got a location," Miguel exclaims, his tone a mix of excitement and relief. I hurry over to his computer, where he's already typing furiously. I place my hand on his shoulder, peering at the screen to see the information displayed.
My eyes scan over the writing, and suddenly a little red dot shines and beeps on a small map of Spain vigorously on the screen. I freeze, my heart pounding in my chest as I watch the blinking dot.
"Is that her?" I ask, my eyes still locked on the screen. Miguel nods silently, his focus unwavering as his fingers fly across the keyboard, typing furiously.
I feel a surge of adrenaline coursing through me as I watch the blinking dot on the map. This is it—the moment we've been waiting for, and now it's finally here.
"We need to move," I say, my voice urgent.
Miguel nods in agreement, his expression grim. "I'm tracing her location now," he replies, his voice tense. "But we need to act fast."
I nod, my mind already racing with possibilities. We can't afford to waste any time. Lives are at stake, and we need to do whatever it takes to save her, "Let's go," I say, determination coursing through me.
"Woah, woah, woah, Lover boy. What, you're just gonna waltz in there like Disneyland or something?" Miguel interrupts, grabbing my shoulder to stop me from leaving.
I turn to face him, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. "We don't have time for this," I say through gritted teeth.
Miguel shakes his head, his expression serious. "We can't just rush in blindly," he insists. "We need a plan."
I take a deep breath, trying to rein in my impatience. He's right, of course. Charging in without a plan would be reckless and could put her in even more danger.
"Fine," I concede, though reluctantly. "What's the plan?"
Miguel smirks. "Gather the team," he says, nodding toward the doors. "And gear up, Lover boy. We are saving Diabla." He raises a brow, a spark of determination in his eyes.
With a determined nod to Miguel, I turn and stride out of the room, my mind already racing with plans. This is it—the moment we've been waiting for. And I won't let anything stand in our way.
As I make my way through the corridors, the urgency of the situation fuels my steps. Every detail of the plan crystallises in my mind as I mentally prepare for what's to come. I can feel the weight of responsibility resting on my shoulders, but I refuse to let it overwhelm me. Veronica is counting on us, and failure is not an option.
I make my way to the armoury room, my gaze exploring the filled room carefully.
The armoury is a hive of activity, filled with the sound of weapons being checked, gear being strapped on, and voices murmuring in anticipation. I take a moment to assess the situation, scanning the room for familiar faces and taking note of the arsenal at our disposal.
