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Teaser — Continue the Story

Maya & Marisol

Across the plaza, behind a shuttered storeroom, Maya and Marisol sat on a dirt floor beneath a single hanging bulb. Two guards stood by the door, rifles slung, masks hiding everything but their eyes.

Maya drew in a slow breath, forcing calm into her voice. “Stay close to me,” she whispered.

The girl’s eyes filled with tears, but she blinked them back — fierce. “They talk about Jaguar… about lies. If they believe him, if they think it was us—”

Maya cut her off gently. “We’ll face it. Together.”

The guards shifted, one muttering under his breath. Maya caught the word: Patrón. She filed it away, pulse quickening. Whoever this man was, he carried weight even these killers respected.

She leaned back against the wall, closing her eyes for a moment. She had seen battlefields before. She knew the calm before a storm.

This was it.

The riders divided.

The plaza divided.

The bosses divided.

And down the highway, engines would soon thunder — the arrival of the man whose word meant life or death.

One of the guards leaned against the doorframe, swigging from a bottle. His mask was pulled down, lips slick with liquor. His eyes had shifted from watchful to hungry.

He staggered closer, bottle dangling from his hand. “El Patrón’s not here yet,” he slurred, voice thick. “Why should we wait for everything?”

Maya shifted instantly, sliding in front of Marisol. “Stay back,” she said, voice hard as steel.

The man smirked, setting the bottle down. “Move aside, pelirroja (redhead), I want the other one.” His hand dropped to the rope at his belt.

Maya lunged, but he was ready. He shoved her hard against the wall, binding her wrists fast with the rough cord, pinning her shoulders. Marisol screamed, thrashing back into the corner.

“Quiet!” he snarled, advancing on her. “You’ll like it if you don’t fight.”

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Jack, Connor & Luis

The locked room reeked of sweat and smoke. Jack stood rigid at the barred window, muscles taut, eyes fixed on the restless square outside. Connor sat in the corner, cigarette glowing low, jaw grinding with every drag. Luis paced like a caged bull, fists raw from pounding the plaster walls.

They had all heard it — the muffled scream, sharp and desperate. Marisol’s voice had carried even through thick walls. Luis had nearly broken himself trying to tear down the door.

Now the silence pressed harder than gunfire.