I was sent to capture the CIA's most wanted fugitive.
But things took a tragic turn,
My entire team was murdered before my eyes, and I was kidnapped by said fugitive.
It seemed like my government had forgotten me and I became a puppet for the fugi...
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I scream against him, every ounce of fear and fury pouring out. Andreas Hidalgo could easily have one of his men restrain me, but for some sick, twisted reason, he decides to hold me himself. His grip is unyielding, my shoulder throbs with sharp pain, and my head feels like it's splitting open, but adrenaline courses through me, lending me strength I didn't know I had. Somehow, I manage to wriggle free, my hands scraping against rough gravel. Desperately, I reach for a stray gun lying on the ground, its cold metal biting into my skin as I clutch it with my wounded shoulder and aim it at him.
Behind me, Agent Wright struggles to his feet, blood seeping through his clothes, his own gun aimed at Hidalgo. His breaths are ragged, yet he manages to steady himself. For a split second, hope flickers within me.
But Andreas Hidalgo only folds his hands across his chest and lets out a low, chilling laugh that echoes through the air, sending a shiver down my spine. "Look around you," he urges in a voice that carries a grave, mocking tone.
I hesitate but dare to glance around. My blood runs cold. We're surrounded-so many men in suits, their expressions stone-cold, all with their guns aimed directly at Agent Wright. My heart hammers in my chest, and dread coils in my stomach.
A man steps out from behind Andreas, his face shadowed. Something about him tugs at the corners of my memory, but I can't quite place it. A chill runs through me, my instincts screaming danger. I push down the fear and reach into my suit jacket pocket, pulling out a pair of handcuffs. My fingers tremble as I prepare to cuff the bastard, yet Andreas Hidalgo remains completely unfazed, his eyes glinting with something unreadable.
With a surge of resolve, I cock the gun, my finger hovering over the trigger, ready to end this nightmare. But then, a gunshot rings out behind me, and I freeze in terror. My heart skips a beat as I spin around, and my breath catches in my throat. Agent Wright is down on one knee, clutching his bleeding leg, his face twisted in pain.
"It's okay, Laura," he rasps, coughing as blood spills from his mouth. "Arrest the bastard."
Torn between him and Hidalgo, I whirl back to face the man responsible for this madness. My gun fires. The shot cracks through the night, but to my horror, Andreas raises his hand, catching the bullet with ease. It passes through his hand, leaving a gaping, bleeding hole, but he doesn't flinch. His heterochromatic eyes darken, locking onto mine with an intensity that steals the air from my lungs.
Shock paralyzes me. I can't move, can't think, as he reaches out with his wounded hand, blood dripping from the bullet wound. He yanks the gun from my grasp and tosses it aside like a toy. The man behind him takes a step forward, but Andreas halts him with a simple raise of his finger.
Then his cold, gloved hand, now slick with his own blood, circles my neck-not hard enough to choke, but firm, sending a jolt of terror through me. I feel the sticky warmth of his blood seeping into my skin, the metallic scent mingling with the cold air. The other man moves in, his presence a looming shadow as he locks thick, heavy restraints around my wrists and ankles. The metal bites into my flesh, and I wince at the sharp pain.
Behind me, Agent Wright's groans are filled with agony and despair. But I'm helpless, trapped in Andreas's unyielding grip, my heart pounding in my chest like a drum.
Andreas stares into my eyes, his expression void of any emotion, yet his gaze pierces through me like a dagger. His voice is a low, ominous whisper, the words chilling to the bone. "You are beautiful."
The compliment throws me off guard, a strange, disorienting sensation in this nightmare. My mind reels, and the only defense I can muster is to spit in his face. The glob of saliva lands on his cheek, mingling with the blood that trickles from his hand. He laughs again-a sound devoid of warmth, filled instead with an icy malice that makes my skin crawl. He doesn't break eye contact, his gaze a relentless force as blood from his hand drips down my neck, staining my skin.
Behind me, his men drag a casket forward, its polished surface gleaming ominously in the dim light. My heart clenches in terror as they roughly lift Agent Wright, ignoring his desperate struggles and muffled screams, and shove him into the coffin. The lid slams shut with a hollow thud, and panic surges through me, threatening to break through the fragile composure I cling to. The reality of my situation crashes over me, cold and merciless-Andreas Hidalgo is kidnapping me, and I am at the mercy of a psychopath.
Tears prick my eyes, but I refuse to let them fall. I will not cry. Not in front of this monster.
Andreas's gaze never wavers from mine as he commands his men, "Send him back to his people." His voice is cold, devoid of any emotion. In my peripheral vision, a chopper descends, the blades whipping the air into a frenzy. "Hopefully, they open the casket before he bleeds to death," he murmurs, his breath ghosting against my ear, "Then it wouldn't be I who killed him."
Before I can process his words, Andreas hoists me effortlessly into his arms, the chains around my wrists and ankles clinking ominously as I'm lifted off the ground. He cradles me in a twisted parody of tenderness, holding me in a princess carry as though I'm something precious. I glance back at Agent Wright's almost lifeless body, now sealed within a sleek, black casket. The sight of it being loaded into a waiting vehicle sends a shiver down my spine, a grim finality settling in.
Andreas strides toward the chopper, his grip on me firm yet unsettlingly gentle. The roar of the blades grows louder, drowning out the world around us. Suddenly, a sharp sting pierces the side of my neck, a needle slipping into my flesh with precision. I gasp, the breath stolen from my lungs as a cold, numbing sensation spreads from the point of contact. My vision blurs, narrowing until the only thing I can see is Andreas's mismatched eyes-one a deep, ruthless green, the other a merciless, icy blue.
Those eyes are the last thing I see before darkness claims me, pulling me under with a force I can't resist.
