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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CLAD IN THE stolen guard uniforms, our faces concealed by masks, We stride purposefully into the facility. Our guns lead the way, held firmly in both hands, barrels pointing downward but ready to unleash their deadly payload at a moment's notice.
As we navigate the labyrinthine halls, disguised as guards, we methodically analyze the facility. Every shadow, every corner, is scrutinized for signs of life.
The air is thick with tension as we move, our footsteps echoing softly against the cold, sterile walls. My eyes dart from corridor to corridor, scanning for any movement, any hint of a threat lurking in the darkness.
With each passing moment, the tension in the air grows thicker, palpable even through the mask covering my face. The silence is oppressive, broken only by the faint hum of machinery and the soft shuffle of our boots on the floor.
As we navigate the maze-like halls, our eyes scanning for any signs of life, we finally come across a door unlike any other. It stands imposingly before us, a barrier between us and our objective, its surface gleaming with the promise of secrets within.
I exchange a glance with the rest of the team, their faces obscured by masks but their determination shining through nonetheless. With a silent nod, I understand what must be done, and they echo my resolve with their own silent agreement.
Taking a deep breath to steady my nerves, I step forward, the weight of the mission heavy on my shoulders. The rest of the team falls back slightly, giving me the space I need to execute our plan.
With a firm grip on my gun, I raise it high and bring it crashing down on the door with a resounding bang. The metallic clang reverberates through the silent halls, shattering the stillness and drawing attention to our presence.
After 30 seconds of tense silence from our side, a soft, electronic "ding" echoes through the hallway. The sound of the key card being accepted by the lock fills the air, followed by a mechanical whirring as the door begins to slide open.
As the doors swiftly open, revealing the figure on the other side, my senses sharpen, adrenaline surging through my veins. Standing before us is a well-built man, clad in the uniform of a guard, his posture confident and his gaze sharp.
His gun is pointed downwards, held casually in one hand, while the other holds a key card. The dim light casts shadows across his chiseled features, giving him an intimidating aura.
Without a moment's hesitation, I raise my gun and take aim at the guard, my finger tightening on the trigger. In one swift motion, I pull it back and a deafening gunshot fills the air as the bullet tears through his chest, shattering bone and tissue as it finds its mark right where his heart lies. Blood sprays from the gaping wound, painting the walls in a gruesome display of crimson.
His eyes widen in shock and agony as he staggers backward, a gurgling scream escaping his lips before he collapses to the ground, clutching futilely at his chest in a desperate attempt to stop the torrent of blood pouring from the fatal wound.
