His open palm cracked across my face — brutal, unrestrained.
My head snapped sideways. Pain detonated through my jaw. Blood filled my mouth, metallic and warm. For a moment, my vision fractured into white and black stars.
Before I could recover —
His boot slammed into my shin.
Sharp.
Intentional.
My leg buckled instantly.
I crashed backward into the wall, spine slamming against stone before I slid down to the floor.
“Hold her,” he barked.
Two men moved immediately.
Rough hands seized my wrists and jerked me upright again before forcing my arms wide and pinning them to the cold marble.
I thrashed once — uselessly.
Their grips tightened like iron cuffs.
Vasquez approached slowly.
Each step deliberate.
He stopped directly in front of me and lifted his shoe.
Then pressed it against my abdomen.
Slow.
Unrelenting.
The pressure increased — crushing air from my lungs.
Pain radiated outward from my ribs as his weight bore down harder.
“Where is your daughter?” he demanded.
My heart spasmed.
“She’s... she’s not here,” I forced out, struggling for breath. “She went with Ruslan.”
His foot pressed harder.
“To Greece.”
“Liar.”
The word snapped through the air.
He leaned forward slightly, eyes scanning my face for cracks.
“Do you think I’m blind? Do you think I don’t know when you’re protecting someone?”
