Maia Mesa grew up with her family in Cuba, but that suddenly changed, and she found herself in a position no one wishes to be, without family.
Marcus Burnett, a repentant and good soul takes her as his own daughter, as well his wife Theresa, a new...
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The men continue to guide us towards the bar's exit, their guns trained on us with unwavering vigilance. They position themselves strategically, some blocking our path ahead, others keeping a menacing watch from behind.
In the midst of this, Dad's voice cuts through the clamor. "Oh, Mike, I'm about to make my move," he announces, his tone brimming with a reckless kind of confidence. He's eager, almost impatient, his eyes scanning the scene for the right moment to act.
Armando, standing just next to me, keeps his attention sharp, darting his gaze around the area with a mixture of wariness and determination. Every muscle tensed as he assesses our surroundings, ready for any sudden threats.
I focus on the conversation between Dad and Mike, trying to make sense of their exchange amid the commotion.
"No, the fuck you're not," Mike retorts sharply, his voice laced with frustration. "You about to go wherever these men are taking us." His sarcasm cuts through the seriousness of the situation, a bitter edge that highlights his exasperation with Dad's impulsiveness.
Dad's voice is resolute, his confidence almost stubborn as he declares, "Oh, I'm not going. Now I'll take the guys in the front, you handle the ones in the back."
Mike's reaction is immediate, his voice cutting through the tension with a note of exasperation. "Marcus, we do not have any weapons."
Dad's response is a countdown, a signal of his imminent move. "In five, four..."
"Marcus," Mike's voice is a sharp plea, desperate to pull him back from the brink.
"Three." Dad's voice remains steady, unwavering.
Before Dad can act on his impulsive plan, the room erupts into chaos. The sudden crack of gunfire fills the air, and the scene transforms into a frenzy of violence. Bullets whiz past us, striking down the men who had been holding us at gunpoint. The deafening noise and the sharp staccato of gunshots drown out everything else, creating a maelstrom of sound and fury.
We instinctively press ourselves against the van, our bodies hunched for protection as we seek cover from the deadly barrage.
A man, caught in the crossfire, collapses right in front of us, his lifeless body falling with a sickening thud. Armando's instincts kick in. He crouches quickly next to the fallen man, moving with purpose. Without wasting a second, he grabs the gun the dead man was holding and yanks it away with a firm grip. His fast actions show just how used he is to dealing with dangerous situations.
I scramble to find the van door and pull it open, crawling inside. Everyone follows my lead, and Armando slams the door shut behind us. We huddle on the floor, doing our best to stay out of the line of fire. As the gunfire continues outside, we start to hear the sound of a car engine and loud music blaring through the place.
