Chapter 1 - The Name in the Dark
The basement door creaked open, revealing the silhouette of a man holding a suppressed pistol.
Marisol’s heart hammered against her ribs as she gripped the bloody mirror shard.
The injured stranger on the floor grabbed her ankle and whispered one single word.
"Duck."
Marisol threw herself flat against the damp concrete just as the man at the top of the stairs pulled the trigger.
A bullet shattered the wooden post exactly where her head had been a second before.
The shooter rushed down the wooden steps, his heavy boots echoing in the confined space.
Marisol scrambled backward, her hands slipping on the wet floor.
The injured stranger suddenly swept his uninjured leg out in a brutal arc.
His foot caught the shooter’s ankle, sending the armed man crashing face-first into the concrete.
The gun skittered across the floor and splashed into a puddle of dirty water.
Marisol did not think about the danger.
She lunged forward and kicked the weapon into the darkest corner of the basement.
The shooter groaned and reached into his jacket for a backup weapon.
Before he could pull it out, the sound of squealing tires echoed from the street above.
Heavy footsteps pounded across the first floor of the abandoned house.
"Downstairs!" a deep voice shouted from above.
Three men wearing tactical vests and carrying assault rifles stormed down the basement stairs.
They wore patches resembling a local flower delivery service, but their weapons suggested otherwise.
The shooter on the floor raised his hands in surrender, but the lead rescue man fired two silent shots into his chest.
Marisol screamed and covered her ears as the man went completely still.
The lead rescuer immediately dropped to his knees beside the chained stranger.
"Boss, we have you," the man said, pulling a medical kit from his vest.
The injured stranger nodded weakly and pointed a shaking finger at Marisol.
"She comes with us," he ordered.
The lead rescuer turned his cold gaze toward Marisol, studying her face for a moment too long.
He reached into his tactical vest and pulled out a crumpled photograph.
He dropped the picture onto the floor right in front of Marisol’s knees.
May you like
Marisol stared at the glossy paper, and all the air left her lungs.
It was a photograph of her younger brother, Mateo, taken secretly from across their street just hours ago.
