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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WITH DETERMINED AND powerful strides, I march up the driveway, my heart pounding with every step. The guards glance at me as I pass, but I don't slow down. I've got one hour before the execution starts.
Pushing through the heavy front doors, I scan the house quickly before bolting downstairs to the basement—the place Luis ominously calls "The Pit." Each step echoes in the dimly lit stairwell, the weight of time pressing down on me.
I rush down the creaky wooden stairs, my footsteps frantic as I take sharp twists and turns, the dark corridors all blurring together in my desperation. My breath quickens, echoing off the walls as I search for the pit. Then, suddenly, I come to an abrupt halt, my heart nearly stopping—just ahead, the entrance to the pit looms before me.
I stride towards the massive metal door, its cold, intimidating presence filling me with dread. Just as I reach out to touch it, the sharp, unmistakable click of a gun's safety being turned off pierces the air behind me.
I freeze, my hand hovering inches from the door, heart pounding as I stand still, still facing the door.
Slowly, I turn around, every muscle tensing as I face whoever is behind me. My heart races in my chest.
Pointing a Glock at me, I'm met with Pandora. Her finger rests on the trigger, her face an unreadable mask of cold detachment. The room feels like it's closing in, her sharp eyes locked on mine. Her intent is clear — one wrong move, and I'm done.
"Get away from the door, Veronica," she says sternly, her voice steady and commanding. I hesitate, my heart pounding in my chest, but her grip on the gun doesn't waver. There's no room for negotiation here — not with her.
I raise my hands in surrender, backing away from the door slowly. "Pandora—" I begin, but she cuts me off sharply.
"You know," she says with a low, mocking laugh, "all that talk about taking over the world? It was all bullshit." She circles me like a predator, the Glock steady in her hand. I follow her movements, my eyes locked on the weapon as she prowls around me, her laughter echoing ominously.
I shrug, trying to keep my voice steady. "I realised I was on the wrong side." I continue to follow her movements.
Pandora stops her circling and locks eyes with me, a cold, dangerous smile curling on her lips. "Oh, how touching," she says, her voice dripping with venom. "But let me make something perfectly clear — there's no redemption here. You're not just on the wrong side; you're on the losing side. And in this game, losing means paying the ultimate price."
She steps closer, her gaze unwavering. "You thought you could play with the big players and walk away? Welcome to the consequences."
I lock eyes with Pandora, my voice steady and fierce. "You think you've won? This is just the beginning. I don't merely survive; I rise from the ashes. When this is over, you'll remember my name—and you'll wish you hadn't crossed me."
