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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HEROES AND VILLAINS often share a common origin: pain. However, it's their response to that pain that sets them apart. While a villain may seek revenge, believing "the world hurts me, so I'll hurt it back," a hero takes a different path, declaring, "The world hurts me, but I won't let it harm others." Heroes harness their pain as a source of strength, while villains allow it to control them.
You either perish a hero, or you endure long enough to witness yourself transform into the villain.
The steady beeping of the heart monitor pulls me from the depths of unconsciousness, my eyes fluttering open to the blinding brightness of the hospital room. Disorientation clouds my mind for a moment, and I instinctively reach for the familiar surroundings of the simulation, but the cold reality of the hospital bed jolts me awake.
As I struggle to orient myself, the memories flood back in a rush. The chaos of the compound, the desperate struggle to reach safety, the searing pain in my side as I fought to keep going. I remember the gunshot, the sharp agony as it tore through me, and the desperate decision to take matters into my own hands.
Grimacing against the pain, I try to sit up, only to be met with a sharp, stabbing sensation in my side. I hiss through clenched teeth, the memory of the makeshift field surgery flooding back to me. The adrenaline-fueled rush as I plunged the dagger into my own flesh, portraying the plan perfectly.
Stabbing myself in the ribs was no walk in the park, that's for sure. The pain was like a fiery poker digging into my side, every nerve screaming in protest. But I had to be careful, mindful not to hit anything too important. After all, there's a fine line between sacrificing a little flesh and causing irreversible damage.
I gritted my teeth and bore the pain, every fibre of my being screaming at me to stop. But I pushed through, knowing that every second counted. And when the time was right, I revealed the extent of my injury, playing my part in the charade to perfection.
It was all according to plan. Every wince, every pained gasp carefully calculated to sell the performance. And when the moment came to reveal the truth, the shock and concern on their faces was exactly what we needed.
It may have happened yesterday, or maybe it was just a few hours ago. Time tends to blur in moments like these. But one thing's for certain: the pain was real, and so was the determination to see our plan through to the end.
I look down at my side, noticing the light blue hospital gown I was wearing. Curiosity gets the best of me, and I pull the neck of the gown down slightly, revealing a tightly wrapped cotton bandage around my abdomen. I frown, my mind racing with questions, but my attention is drawn away from my ribs to the wall opposite me as a deep voice clears his throat quietly.
I turn my head slowly, my eyes meeting the gaze of a figure standing in the doorway. It's Roman, his expression a mixture of concern and relief as he steps further into the room.
