Ferrero's intel felt like my first real chance at Carlos. He'd given up a location—a discreet, hidden safehouse Carlos supposedly used for private meetings, the one place he believed no one could reach him. If I wanted answers, this was my best shot.
As I made my way to the safehouse that night, the city's sounds faded, replaced by silence and the weight of everything I hadn't said, hadn't done. Anger surged with every step. Carlos was so close, finally within my reach. But something kept my instincts on edge, a nagging feeling I couldn't shake.
The safehouse was tucked between two rundown buildings, barely visible behind vines and shadows. I slipped inside, moving quietly through its dimly lit corridors, each step precise and controlled. But as I rounded a corner, I felt a sudden, chilling presence behind me. Before I could react, an arm clamped around my waist, pulling me back.
"Surprised to see me?" Carlos's voice was a soft murmur, laced with amusement.
I twisted, trying to break free, but his grip only tightened, steady and unyielding. I knew he was dangerous, but feeling his strength firsthand, the quiet control in his hold, made the danger feel all too real.
"Get your hands off me," I hissed, my voice laced with venom.
But he only chuckled, a dark sound that sent a shiver through me. "Oh, I don't think so," he replied smoothly, as though he'd already won.
Before I could even process what was happening, he lifted me effortlessly, throwing me over his shoulder. My fists pounded against his back as he carried me out of the safehouse, my protests swallowed by the empty night.
He carried me down a narrow alley until we reached a sleek black car parked under a lone streetlight. The moment he opened the door, a strange, heavy scent hit me—a sharp, cloying smell that made my vision blur. I struggled, trying to pull away, but my limbs were already going numb, my senses fading.
As darkness closed in, the last thing I heard was the door next to me closing shut
