The moon hung low in the night sky, casting an eerie glow over the hillside campsite. What was supposed to be a peaceful weekend getaway had turned into a nightmare. Chaos reigned as gunfire echoed through the trees, and the scent of burning pine needles filled the air.
Terrified campers huddled together in tents, seeking refuge from the unfolding violence. Screams and frantic footsteps merged into a symphony of panic. Among them were a group of college students who had stumbled upon this grim spectacle unwittingly, their plans for a relaxing escape shattered.
Hidden amidst the mayhem were the drug traffickers, their faces contorted with both fear and aggression. They had arrived with the intention of striking a deal, but fate had other plans. A rival gang had set a trap, catching them off guard. Unbeknownst to them, they were about to be pulled into a deadly showdown.
The first shots rang out, a cacophonous "Bang! Bang!" that shattered the night's fragile tranquility. Gunfire erupted, and the hillside became a battleground. For the next thirty minutes, the woods reverberated with the staccato rhythm of bullets.
Some of those embroiled in the firefight fell to the ground, clutching wounds inflicted by the exchange of gunfire. Others, driven by adrenaline and desperation, continued to shoot at their adversaries, their faces illuminated by the flickering flames from nearby tents set ablaze.
Amidst the chaos, the college students tried to find cover, their minds racing with disbelief and terror. As the minutes ticked by, the hillside became a scene of utter madness.
**
Max's heart raced as he fumbled with his Bluetooth earpiece. The chaotic symphony of gunshots and screams provided an unsettling backdrop to his frantic attempts to reach Francisco.
"Can you hear me, Francisco? Francisco…" Max's voice quivered with worry, but there was no response, just static silence. His concern deepened.
Huddled behind the tree, Max felt the chilling proximity of danger as a bullet slammed into the bark inches away. "Fuck!" He cursed, his senses sharpening with adrenaline. He gripped his firearm tightly, ready to return fire.
Amidst the relentless chaos and the sounds of gunfire echoing through the night, Max's thoughts were consumed by one relentless question, "Where are you, Francisco? Are you alright or not?"
Francisco didn't return his call, and those traitors were on the opposite side. This caused him serious concern. In the midst of the turmoil, his sole thought was that he had to find Francisco at all costs.
**
In the midst of the raging firefight, hidden within a dense thicket, a wounded boy lay sprawled out in the dirt. His face was pale, and beads of sweat clung to his furrowed brow. The pain from his gunshot wound pulsed through his body, leaving him dizzy and disoriented. His right arm throbbed with agony, a grim reminder of the price he had paid while trying to save a girl.
Unable to grip his gun, the boy felt powerless and vulnerable. He had been on the brink of losing consciousness when a soft, reassuring voice broke through the chaos.
"Hey, keep your eyes open," the girl's voice urged, a beacon of hope in the darkness. "The police have been informed, and they are on their way. Just let your eyes open."
With great effort, the boy's eyelids gradually lifted, revealing eyes clouded with pain and fear. He blinked away the haze, focusing on the girl's face that hovered above him. He found himself lying with his head on the unknown girl's lap.
Her face, partially obscured by the darkness and smeared with blood, was now a comforting presence in his hazy consciousness. She gently pressed herbs against his gunshot wound; her touch was surprisingly soothing.
His parched throat ached with the desire to speak, but the pain held him in a vice grip. His voice emerged as a mere croak, barely audible over the ongoing chaos. Her soft voice cut through the cacophony once more, breaking through the boy's confusion.
"Do you want to say something?"
The events of the night had taken a heavy toll on him, both physically and emotionally. The girl's presence, her care in treating his wound provided a glimmer of humanity amidst the madness.
The boy's attempt to speak left him gasping in agony, his lips trembling as he tried to suppress the searing pain that coursed through him. The girl continued to watch him with concern etched across her blood-stained face. Minutes passed in heavy silence, broken only by the distant echoes of gunfire that seemed worlds away.
Finally, as if coming to a decision, she retrieved a water bottle from her backpack and held it up. Her voice was gentle, filled with a genuine desire to help.
"Do you want to drink water?"
The boy managed a small nod, though it was more a slight inclination of his head than a proper response. He longed to quench his thirst, to soothe his parched throat, but his body rebelled against even the simplest of movements.
Without hesitation, the girl carefully poured a small amount of water into his mouth. However, he struggled to swallow, his weakened body refusing to cooperate. Each attempt sent waves of pain radiating from the gunshot wound in his arm. He coughed, and the remaining water rolled from his mouth. The girl took the water in her mouth when she understood he couldn't even drink.
As the girl leaned down, her lips gently touching his in an act of selfless compassion, the boy's eyes widened with a mixture of surprise.
Their eyes locked for a fleeting moment as she shared the precious water with him mouth-to-mouth. It was an intimate act born out of necessity, a lifeline that transcended words. He drank in the water, and he finally saw her face.
Her hazel-green eyes.
With his thirst finally quenched, the boy slowly closed his eyes, a sense of relief washing over him. As he drifted into unconsciousness, he held onto a thought, a promise to himself, 'If I survive this time, we will definitely meet, girl. You owe me one thing.'
**
Three long years had passed since the chaotic night on the hillside, and the world had irrevocably changed. In a dimly lit factory, the rumble of machinery formed a constant backdrop. Max ascended a creaking staircase to the second floor, his footsteps echoing through the cavernous space. The room he entered held an air of quiet anticipation, and his eyes fell on the figure sitting within, the one he had searched for all this time. "Francisco, James hasn't given us any updates. What should we do next?" Max's voice held a note of urgency. Francisco was a strikingly handsome and enigmatic young man. His ocean-blue eyes, as deep and unfathomable as the sea itself, stared off into the distance as he casually exhaled a plume of cigarette smoke. "You are aware of our methods in this case, Max," Francisco replied calmly, his voice carrying the weight of experience. He turned his gaze towards Max, and it was as if he carried the secrets of the world within his eyes, a knowledge that transc
"Don't let up. We have not sent them to the border yet," James urged, his words carrying the weight of their precarious situation. James's voice crackled over the phone, laced with anxiety and an unmistakable edge. He had reason to be concerned; after all, they were dealing with a man as cold-blooded and unpredictable as Francisco. Bruce's response was swift and unwavering. "Okay, sir. I will inform you of everything after boarding those girls out of here." With those words, Bruce hung up the phone, his mind focused on the task at hand. He knew that their operation had to proceed smoothly and without a hitch if they were to avoid Francisco's interference. However, as Bruce lowered the phone, an unexpected touch on his head sent a shiver down his spine, like the cold steel of a pistol against his skin. His eyes grew wider with realization, and his heart raced uncontrollably. At that moment, Bruce had a sinking feeling that they had underestimated Francisco's cunning and determinati
The young girl gave a slight nod, her trust in Hazel evident. In a world filled with uncertainty and danger, Hazel's words were a lifeline of hope. Drawing the girl close, Hazel wrapped her arms around her, holding her tightly. She knew that sometimes a simple hug could offer comfort that words couldn't convey. But just as a fragile sense of solace settled among the girls, another gunshot rang out, this time dangerously close to their cabin. Panic and alarm swept through the captive group, their hearts racing as fear overtook them. The young child, trembling and frightened, clung to Hazel, her small frame shaking. She whispered in a trembling voice, her words a poignant cry for the comfort of home. "I don't want to go. I want to see my mom." Hazel held the trembling girl firmly, offering what little comfort she could in the midst of their shared terror. But the fragile peace they had found was shattered when the cabin door burst open and a group of 7 or 8 masked men stormed in, th
Police officers rushed in, their authoritative figures in stark contrast to the masked men who had held the girls captive. "Is everyone all right?" one police officer inquired, his voice laced with concern as he surveyed the room. A collective exhale of relief swept through the captives as they realized the nightmare might finally be coming to an end. For the first time in what had felt like an eternity, they dared to hope. The young girl, who had been clinging to Hazel, summoned the courage to speak, her voice trembling with both fear and longing. "Can I go to my mom?" Hazel, her heart touched by the girl's innocence and vulnerability, patted her head gently and offered words of reassurance. "Now we can all go home." A warm, genuine smile passed between Hazel and the young girl, a shared moment of understanding and relief. ** The police officers worked tirelessly, providing information and help to each of the rescued girls and helping them arrange to return to their homes. The
A maid diligently wiped the bloodstains from the floor. The shadows cast by the curtains seemed to elongate and contort, as if they held their own secrets. Amid the solemn task, the maid's senses pricked with awareness as she detected approaching footsteps. An uneasy shiver traveled down her spine, and she turned her gaze toward the doorway. There, she saw a woman—a presence unexpected at that hour. The maid's voice quavered as she stammered, "Ma'am... you! At this time?" The woman, with an air of quiet confidence, offered the maid a sweet smile. Her grace and poise in that moment seemed incongruous with the chaos that had unfolded in this very room not long ago. "Where is he?" she inquired, her voice carrying an undercurrent of urgency beneath the sweetness. The maid, caught off guard, hesitated momentarily. She gestured toward the bathroom, the place where the enigmatic Francisco had retreated after the night's tumultuous events. A knowing smile graced the woman's lips as she
After a few minutes, Francisco shut his eyes and began gagging Emily's mouth. He immediately reached his climax and filled Emily's mouth. After that, he pushed Emily forward, gripping her hair. She plopped down on the floor, licked her lips, and said, "How rude!" Francisco cleaned himself up, keeping his distance from Emily. As he reached for a towel, Emily turned on the shower and moved closer to him. "When will you show affection again?" she asked, her voice filled with longing. Francisco answered while grabbing the towel, but in an irritating manner, "Go f*** yourself." He left the bathroom, leaving Emily to stare after him, her desire unfulfilled. She muttered softly, "I'll wait for as long as it takes, Francis." Francisco put on a robe and made his way to the balcony of his luxurious palace. The night air embraced him as he lit a cigarette, its embers casting a faint, fiery glow on his rugged features. His strong jaw was set in contemplation as he peered out over the sprawli
In the shadowy depths of Francisco's world, Max's sadistic amusement knew no bounds. Bruce, battered and bruised, found himself caught in a merciless game that promised nothing but agony. As Max held a menacing pair of brass knuckles, the room bore witness to the unfolding torment. Bruce, a mere pawn in this sinister theater, could hardly muster the strength to speak. His body bore the marks of relentless abuse, and his battered eye told a story of its own. Yet, amidst the torment and suffering, he managed to stutter out his plea of ignorance. "I don't know anything," Bruce whispered, his voice quivering. He clung to the remnants of his willpower, clinging to the slim hope that revealing nothing would offer a semblance of protection. Max, his tormentor, showed no remorse or sympathy. Instead, he wore a chilling smirk, delighting in Bruce's misery. "There is nothing we need from you," Max sneered, his fingers stretching ominously. "We are only playing with you for enjoyment." The g
"Where are you, Francis?" Max inquired, a hint of impatience in his tone. Francisco's response was unexpected, and Max's eyes grew heavy and droopy as he tried to process it. "I'm lying in bed," came the answer, the words tinged with an unusual weariness. Max was bewildered. "In bed? Aren't you coming here?" He asked, his confusion apparent. "What?" Max muttered in a startled manner. "Are you alright?" His voice trembled with a mixture of surprise and worry, unable to fathom the sudden change in Francisco's demeanor. Francisco remained silent for a moment, leaving Max hanging in suspense. Then, in a voice that was unsettlingly calm, Francisco revealed his disturbing instructions. "Push him anti-seizure drugs before tossing him in front of his boss's house." "I know what to do now," Max replied. "But are you okay, or are you with Emily now?" He sought some clarity, hoping to understand the source of this disturbing change in his friend's character. Francisco's response was t
Hazel sat on the barstool, her frustration palpable as she tapped her nails lightly on the counter. Her voice was low but sharp as she asked the bartender for a drink, not caring what it was. She couldn’t suppress the anger and despair bubbling inside her. Francisco had taken everything—her freedom, her choices, her dignity—and left her trapped in a life she never wanted.The glass of beer arrived, and Hazel absently twirled her finger along its rim. Her thoughts spiraled as she stared into the amber liquid. Once, she had stood tall as a detective, a servant of justice. Now, she was no better than a prisoner, bound to a man whose world revolved around power and crime.She finished the drink in one swift gulp, the bitterness burning her throat. "Another, pig," she muttered, her words dripping with venom. The bartender narrowed his eyes but complied, sliding another glass toward her with a wary glance.As she lifted the second drink to her lips, a familiar voice interrupted her."Ma’am,
The room fell silent again, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife. Dimitri, unbothered by Hazel’s sharp retort, simply smiled at her, his composure as smooth as the wine he swirled in his glass.“Ah, then it must be the sweetest regret for you,” Dimitri said, taking a sip of his drink. His voice carried a mocking lilt. “Just imagine—you’re sleeping with one of us every night.”Hazel’s expression hardened, her face a mask of controlled fury.Dimitri leaned back in his chair, sneering, “How helpless you are. Isn’t it fascinating?”The words struck a nerve, driving home the oppressive reality of her situation. Dimitri had skillfully highlighted her vulnerability, reminding her of the sheer powerlessness she felt among people who thrived on corruption and violence. Hazel could feel the weight of every eye on her, and the humiliation was almost unbearable.Without a word, she yanked her hand free from Francisco’s grip. Her voice was firm, yet laced with barely concealed frustration,
Francisco didn’t react immediately. His sharp gaze fixed on Dimitri’s hand for a long moment, as if calculating every possible outcome of this exchange. Then, finally, he reached out and clasped Dimitri’s hand in his own. The handshake was firm, neither man willing to back down, their locked hands a silent battle of wills.“I am sorry for my unprofessional attitude,” Dimitri said smoothly, his tone carrying a hint of insincerity as their hands finally parted. His smirk never wavered."So, how are you?" Dimitri asked, his voice light, though his eyes glinted with something sharper. "How’s life been treating you all these years?"Francisco pressed his lips together briefly, raising his brows in acknowledgment before answering curtly. "It’s going well."Dimitri nodded, his smile remaining as he leaned forward slightly, folding his arms.“I see,” he said, his voice casual, though the room seemed to tighten around his words.“Yeah, normally it would be good. After all, you’ve been... killi
They soon reached a secluded area where several high-ranking clan members were gathered around a grand table, each one deep in conversation. James, Lilith, and Ron—son of the Wolf Clan boss—sat among them, each turning their attention as Francisco and Hazel approached. The atmosphere here was different; there was a tension woven into the room’s decor and the careful way everyone held themselves. Conversations halted momentarily, eyes shifting toward them with mixed expressions.Francisco’s gaze swept over the group, searching. He noted familiar faces, but one key figure was missing.Dimitri!The room fell silent as Francisco and Hazel stepped into the circle. The clan members’ conversations came to an abrupt halt, their gazes shifting toward the pair.Francisco eased into a seat on the plush couch, pulling Hazel down beside him. His expression was calm, but Hazel could feel the undercurrent of tension in his movements.Lilith, seated nearby, took a sharp breath, her face hardening. He
Without a word, Hazel opened the car door and slid inside, leaving the two men standing in a charged silence. Francisco took a slow step closer to Arthur, his gaze flicking to the car window where Hazel sat, her eyes cast elsewhere. Then he turned back to Arthur, his tone low and deliberate.“Arthur,” he said quietly, “I trust you’ll remember your boundaries.”The statement was calm, almost conversational, but laced with an unmistakable edge.Arthur swallowed, feeling the weight of Francisco’s gaze.“Boss, I…” He stammered, struggling to explain, though he knew words wouldn’t change what Francisco had seen.Francisco’s gaze sharpened.“I saw everything, Arthur. Now consider, what if it happens again next time, then?”His tone was laced with an unspoken warning, leaving no room for misinterpretation.Arthur’s throat went dry, and he forced himself to respond.“I… understand, sir. And if there’s any punishment…”He hesitated, glancing up briefly before returning his eyes to the ground.
Francisco seemed to hesitate, just for a moment, before his face softened, and an almost imperceptible shift took place in his demeanor. He touched her cheek with his nose, slowly, gently.Then, he moved closer, pressing his lips against her skin in a slow, almost tender gesture.The moment was brief. As quickly as it began, Francisco released his grip, pulling away from her body. He stood there, staring down at her, his chest still rising and falling with quick breaths.Hazel took a steadying breath, shifting her gaze away from Francisco as she wrestled with the storm inside her. His words, his actions—everything about him sickened her, and she knew she could never forgive him. He had taken everything from her, shattering the life she once had. Now, she was nothing more than a prisoner in his world, bound by his relentless will.He wanted her to bear his child, to lock her in this prison forever. That, she vowed, would never happen. She would find a way, at any cost, to make sure she
Francisco and Hazel were close, their breaths mingling in the quiet room. Hazel traced her fingers along his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin. She moved with confidence, leaning in to press her lips to his earlobe and then sliding her hands down to his abs, pushing his shirt aside. Francisco let her take the lead.Settling onto his lap, Hazel wrapped her arms around his neck, her lips pressing softly along his jaw and then his neck. She took her time, her fingers exploring his chest, tracing lines along his muscles as though savoring every detail. Francisco watched her, feeling his heart race as she kissed him, giving him a playful bite on his lower lip. She was in control, and he was okay with it.Francisco closed his eyes, exhaling a low sigh as she brushed her hand over his chest, her fingers teasing against his skin. He threaded his fingers through her hair, guiding her closer, a silent invitation for her to continue.She moved slowly, her kisses trailing down his chest as sh
Francisco stood behind the sofa, watching Hazel as she lounged comfortably, legs stretched out to claim the entire space. Her silent message was clear—she wasn’t giving him any room, and she wasn’t going to make this easy.He took a slow, steadying breath. Hazel’s defiance was like a game to her, a dance of control and challenge, and while it was often silly, it sometimes gnawed at his patience.Without a word, he stepped around the sofa, his presence looming close, yet she didn’t so much as glance his way. Instead, her attention remained fixed on the TV, as if he were merely part of the scenery.With a firm but gentle grip, Francisco took hold of her legs, the unexpected touch finally drawing her gaze up to him. He didn’t hesitate, lowering himself onto the sofa and placing her legs across his lap, his fingers grazing over her skin, smooth and warm beneath his touch.Hazel took a deep breath, keeping it measured, as if not wanting to reveal any reaction. They sat in silence, the soft
“Are you having a meeting?” Hazel’s voice was light, feigning innocence as she tilted her head and looked at Francisco.Francisco’s grip on the edge of the laptop tightened, his knuckles whitening. His expression was steely, though he nodded curtly, lips pressed together. “Yes,” he replied, his tone clipped. “But I think it’s best I end it.”Hazel’s hand slipped over his, her fingers tracing gentle patterns as she let out a low, teasing laugh. “Oh, no need,” she murmured, her eyes gleaming with mischief. Leaning in, her lips barely an inch from his ear, she whispered, “We can pick up where we left off… after your meeting, honey.”Then, without warning, she brushed her lips across his jaw, lingering there before flicking her tongue against his neck in a swift, provocative gesture. Her breath was warm against his skin, leaving him stunned. She straightened, smiling at his speechless expression, and sauntered off without a backward glance.The meeting room on the laptop had fallen int