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Adrenaline surges through me, hot and immediate. I’m moving before I even register the action, my survival instinct kicking in. My pulse races, every beat a countdown to confrontation. Juan’s men must have found us.

Tiptoeing toward the dresser, I pull the top drawer out. My fingers close around the cool metal of the pistol Ice left for me. It’s a small comfort, but it steadies my shaking hands. This isn’t the first attack I’ve faced. A few years ago, men infiltrated Juan’s compound, and I had to shoot them to survive. I’m sure this won’t be the last time I’m forced to defend myself, because fate is cruel. But one thing is certain, I won’t go down without a fight.

My breath hitches as I crack the door open. Gazing out through the narrow slit, I check the upstairs hallway. It’s empty.

Creeping toward the landing, I steal a glance over the railing. Shadows and shapes disappear into the hallway below. Shouts ricochet off the walls. The heavy thud of boots pounds like a war drum, heralding the sinister surge of Juan’s men as they swarm the house.

“Isabella!” The voices come muffled, from far away. It sounds like one of the prospects, but I can’t be sure, so I don’t respond.

My mind whirs, calculating, strategizing. I haven’t been into many of the rooms within the house, but I know where the exits are. Still, I can’t leave without the other women. I need to find Blue and Babet. Unless they managed to run away, they must be hiding somewhere in the house. Babet, with her punk-grandma moxie, will know what to do after we escape. Blue, who seems like she’d be calm under pressure, will lead us to safety.

Sneaking downstairs, I evade Juan’s men and slip into a room, heart hammering. After silently closing the door behind me, I turn to find myself in a playroom filled with toys and bookcases. As far as I can tell, there’s no one here. But just to be sure, I check behind a cabinet full of toys. On the other side ofthe room, the closet door creaks open. I nearly jump out of my skin.

“Blue? Babet?” I whisper, backing toward the entrance in case I need to flee.

“Isa, in here!” Blue’s hushed voice is a beacon in the storm.

“Where’s Babet?” I ask a second before the closet opens to reveal both women. “Oh, thank God.”

“We need to get out of here,” Babet mutters.

“How?”

“We tried to open the window, but it won’t budge. The wood’s too swollen or something.” Blue scowls.

The pounding of footsteps upstairs snaps our heads upward.

“We can get out through the back door in the kitchen,” I say.

“And what if there are more outside?” Blue whispers, eyes darting toward the door.

“Where are the prospects?”

“Dead, I think.” Babet’s eyes fill with unshed tears. “They tried to protect us, but they were outnumbered.”

“How the hell did they find me?”

“No clue.” Blue strides toward the door. She twists the knob inch by inch before peeking out. “We’ll figure it out later. It’s clear. Let’s go.”

The corridor seems to stretch and stretch as we hurry toward the kitchen. We move fast, but time is a fickle ally, slipping through our grasp when we need it most. We must reach the exit before it’s too late, before the cartel goons find us and cut off our chance at freedom.

The kitchen looms ahead, the familiar scent of spices now tainted with the metallic tang of fear. We slide past the overturned chairs, the remnants of our last meal still strewnacross the floor—a grim reminder of how quickly life can spiral into anarchy.

“Hurry,” Blue breathes, green eyes fierce beneath the crown of red. Her hand reaches back, gripping mine for an instant before we break for the exit.

Babet follows, her muumuu a colorful blur, an unexpected warrior queen in flowery fabric. Our footsteps are muffled, but they still sound too loud. We move with precision.

As soon as we reach the kitchen door, I peer through the window to check outside. “Stay down,” I hiss as I spot a dozen or more cartel members hiding in the bushes and behind trees. There are too many to shoot. Ice told me I’d only have twelve rounds in the gun. That’s not enough rounds get them all. The minute I fire, they’ll shoot back. It won’t work.

There’s no time for fear, only action. I signal to Blue and Babet that we need to retreat. They give me a sharp nod. We’re in this together, bound by the unspoken vow to protect each other against the darkness that threatens to engulf us all.

We pivot on instinct, a trio of shadows darting through the dimly lit corridor. Blue’s flowing dress whispers against the walls. Babet’s eyes, sharp as ever, scan for danger.

“Through here!” I command, leading them into Vapor’s office. “Bones closed the window right before we started the meeting, so I know it’s a way out.”

The exit is close, the promise of escape and the fresh air of freedom just beyond reach. My heart hammers, hope surging—but it’s snatched away when I look through the windowpanes. Miguel’s men swarm outside like vultures circling their prey, weapons glinting in the dim light from the porch. They block our path, a wall of malice between us and salvation.

“Damn it,” I mutter, pulse spiking.