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 gratitude that flowed from the girls toward their saviors was palpable, a heartfelt acknowledgment of the police officers' role in their rescue.
Parents who had lost hope of ever seeing their daughters again arrived at the scene to embrace their long-lost loved ones. Tears of joy mingled with tears of relief as families were reunited, their spirits buoyed by the miraculous turn of events. The girls, who had been abducted, could hardly believe that they were now free and in the loving arms of their families.
"Sir, all of those girls were rescued," a man reported to a young officer who had recently joined the force.
The young officer, Rafael, nodded in acknowledgment, his face reflecting a mix of satisfaction and frustration. "But we failed to arrest those criminals. They simply escaped."
Rafael was known among his peers for his exceptional skills. At just 22 years old, he stood at an impressive height of 6'2", but it was his logical analysis, sharpshooting abilities, and high IQ that had earned him the undersheriff post.
As he reflected on the situation, Rafael couldn't help but feel the weight of their failure to capture the criminals responsible for the harrowing ordeal.
Rafael's mind was consumed by questions as he surveyed the scene. He couldn't help but wonder how the criminals had discovered the location where the girls were being held. The speed with which they vanished after the police arrived was disconcerting.
"How did they find out we were here?" Rafael asked his fellow officer.
"I feel the same way, sir. Seriously, they got away so quickly," the officer replied, his frustration evident.
Rafael continued to move around, examining the lifeless bodies of the criminals who had met their end during the chaotic standoff. As he did so, another officer named Freddie approached him, his curiosity getting the better of him.
"Why do they kill their own men, sir?" Freddie inquired, his voice filled with bewilderment.
Rafael sighed and knelt down in front of one of the bodies, studying it carefully. He responded calmly, "They are not their men, Freddie. It appears they were in a skirmish with another gang."
Freddie, not one to hold back his thoughts, offered a somewhat grim perspective. "Cool, I wish they fought among themselves and died together. Afterward, the public could have a happy existence."
Rafael couldn't help but smile at Freddie's dark sense of humor. He got to his feet and replied, "Not a bad idea, but it won't happen. Our system is also corrupted. Someone among us might have informed them."
Freddie raised an eyebrow, his gaze locked onto Rafael's retreating figure as he walked out of the factory. The unanswered questions surrounding the operation weighed heavily on Rafael's mind.
**
Francisco's bedroom, a sanctuary of opulence and luxury, was a reflection of his dark and silent world. The room itself seemed to echo with the weight of his deeds and the secrets he held. Luxurious crimson curtains adorned every window, their rich hue casting a warm, inviting glow across the room. The floor, crafted from gleaming marble, added an air of timeless elegance. A grand canopy bed, draped in sumptuous silk and velvet, commanded the center of the room, its presence regal and imposing.
Its decor and ambiance perfectly matched his taste, a testament to his wealth and power.
Having just returned from a mission, Francisco shed his bloodstained clothes with a casual disregard for the mess they left behind. His attire bore evidence of violence and danger, a reminder of the dark path he walked.
Turning to face the mirror, he examined his reflection with a detached and unreadable expression. His eyes, like the calm surface of a stormy sea, held secrets that were known to few. His gaze fell upon a darkened spot on his back, a reminder of an encounter during the mission when he had been struck with a rod. But Francisco paid it no heed, for physical wounds were but minor inconveniences in his world.
With a languid grace, he proceeded to the washroom, his movements deliberate and unhurried. After each mission, he had a ritual that he followed without fail. An hour-long bath, a cleansing of not only his body but also his soul, was an essential part of his post-mission routine.
The bathroom, another testament to extravagance, was adorned with marble and gold fixtures. Francisco stepped into the large, elegant bathtub, and the water began to flow, warm and inviting. As he submerged himself, he allowed the water to envelop him, washing away the physical and metaphorical stains of his actions.
The water cascaded over his body, mingling with the blood and grime that clung to his skin.
Francisco submerged himself in the water, the world above vanishing as he descended into the depths of his thoughts. His eyes remained closed beneath the water's surface, shut off from the outside world.
With practiced ease, he regulated his breath, allowing himself to stay submerged for extended periods. Time seemed to stretch, and he remained underwater for more than 25 minutes, the silence broken only by the gentle ripples and the rhythm of his heartbeat.
It had been four days, and Francisco’s men still hadn’t found Ron.Nothing.Not a trace.No word.Ron had been one of his most trusted men.Even Martin had no clue. Wherever Rafael was keeping him, it was off the grid.Francisco sat on the porch, deep in thought. His eyes were heavy, jaw tight. He leaned forward, elbow resting on his knee, fingers grazing his chin.Hazel noticed him sitting there, alone.Though he tried to seem normal around her, she could see right through it. His face gave it away—the weight, the tension.She walked toward him.Francisco heard her footsteps and slowly lowered his hand.“You seem tense,” Hazel said gently.Francisco gave her a faint smile.“Maybe…”He leaned back in the chair, exhaling. “Seems that bastard won’t let me breathe.”At the mention of Rafael, Hazel shifted her gaze, avoiding his eyes.She walked to the railing and rested her elbow on it, her cheek pressed into her hand. She stared at the yard, unmoving, lost in thought.Francisco turned h
Hazel asked in a low, uncertain voice, “Is everything okay?”Francisco didn’t answer right away. He stayed quiet, as if searching for the words.After a long pause, he finally spoke.“Yeah... just tired.”“Sometimes I just want to disappear. Leave everything behind.”“Somewhere no one can find me. Just you and me.”“No chaos. No pressure. Nothing.”Hazel gently moved her fingers through his hair, listening. His words felt heavy, almost like a confession.Without thinking much, she asked, “Do you feel bad... doing those things?”Silence!Francisco didn’t answer right away. His jaw tightened.“It doesn’t matter what you feel,” he finally said. “You just do what the world demands from you.”“That’s the world I grew up in.”He lifted his head from her lap and looked into her eyes.Hazel slowly lowered her gaze, but their eyes met halfway.His voice dropped, raw and unsure.“Hazel, can I tell you everything I want?”Hazel’s heart skipped a beat.This wasn’t the Francisco she was used to.H
Rafael took a long drag of his cigarette and exhaled sharply.“We need to move. We’re hunting a bastard,” he said, his voice cold.Freddie narrowed his eyes. “What happened, sir?”“Nothing,” Rafael muttered."We’re hitting Ron. We’ve got his location.”Freddie quickly reached for his phone. “Yes, sir. I’ll call for backup—”Before he could finish, Rafael snatched the phone from his hand.“No time,” he said, already walking. “Move your ass.”“But sir—”“I said move!” Rafael barked.Freddie bit his tongue and followed. There was no arguing with him like that. Lately, Rafael didn’t listen to anyone. He didn’t care about protocol, didn’t care about backup, didn’t care about danger.Not since Hazel left.He was charging into the fire, eyes wide open.Ron wasn’t a big name. Just a street-level thug. But he was connected—part of a chain that could lead them straight to the top. Catching Ron could be the key to breaking open the whole network.Freddie glanced at Rafael’s back as they walked.
The next morning, Francisco woke up on time, but Hazel wasn’t beside him.His heart skipped. He quickly got out of bed and rushed downstairs.There she was—at the dining table, busy with something.He stepped toward her and asked, “What are you doing?”Hazel turned and smiled at him.Francisco froze.She smiled.Bright.Warm.Real.He blinked. Was he dreaming?“I was waiting for you, honey,” Hazel said.Honey?Francisco stared, stunned.“I made something special too,” she added.He couldn’t move.Hazel noticed. She walked up, took his hand, and pulled him gently. “Come.”She made him sit and then sat beside him. Without a word, she started serving him.Francisco stayed quiet, watching her every move.She looked… happy.“Eat,” Hazel said.He picked up his spoon and took a bite.“Is it good?” she asked.He nodded slowly. “Yes.”Then she held out a spoonful of broth to him.“Try it!”Francisco stared at her. His heart raced. He didn’t understand.Was this the same Hazel?He watched her c
Water trickled down Hazel’s body—cold, soothing, calming.She closed her eyes and let it wash over her, breathing slowly.After a moment, she opened her eyes and looked down at the water.Just minutes ago, she had rushed away from Francisco.“Did he notice something?”She whispered to herself, running her hands over her arms.She had left him so suddenly, he hadn’t even had a chance to stop her.Hazel let out a long sigh and turned off the shower.She felt a little more at ease now. As she rubbed her wet hair with a towel, her eyes went to the door.Francisco would be waiting.Taking a deep breath, she stepped out.Just as she expected, Francisco was seated at the dining table, waiting for her.As soon as he heard her footsteps, he turned and said, “Done with your shower?”“Come on, eat something. You haven’t eaten all day. That’s not good for you now.”Hazel gave a small nod and walked over. She took a seat, and Francisco sat beside her.They started eating in silence. The quiet felt
“Ahh…”Hazel was breathing hard, sitting on Francisco’s lap in the car.Her top was halfway open, exposing one of her breasts. She clutched his hair, still catching her breath from their wild kiss.With a sultry, dominant look, she pulled Francisco’s face to her chest.Francisco began sucking gently on her erect bud.Pleasure was written all over Hazel’s face.“Huff…”Suddenly, Hazel shot up in bed, panting and covered in sweat.Her eyes darted around the room.She was alone.She was on the bed.It was just a dream.A dream about her and Francisco.Their bodies tangled, their passion wild.“Oh god…” she muttered, burying her face in her knees. Her fingers gripped her hair tightly.“What am I doing?” she whispered to herself, embarrassed.Her cheeks burned as she bit her bottom lip.“I’m the pervert here,” she murmured.Hazel forced herself to stand, her legs still shaky. She walked to the side table and poured herself a glass of water.She drank it in one long gulp. She was incredibly