I drew in a sharp breath and demanded, “What the hell is my offense?”
No answer. No explanation.
Just movement.
A black hood was yanked over my head.
Rough canvas.
Smelling faintly of oil.
Of sweat. Of use.
Darkness swallowed everything instantly.
Panic spiked.
My breath hitched against the fabric. My pulse roared in my ears.
My body tensed as hands gripped my upper arms, hauling me forward.
Gravel crunched beneath heavy boots.
Each step echoing.
No sane officer would cover my face with a hood right after handcuffing me.
This wasn’t routine—it felt like a kidnapping.
These men... were they working for someone?
The Spanish, maybe?
Could these officers really be delivering me to them?
After all, the Spanish had put a bounty on my head weeks ago.
But I never imagined border officers would be among those hunting me.
Then I heard it—the metallic click of doors opening.
And the sound wasn’t of a station or a van; it was a car.
Cold air brushed against my skin for a split second before I was shoved inside.
Head forced down.
Body folded into the backseat.
The door slammed shut behind me.
The sound sealed me in.
Engines roared to life.
And then—we moved.
I sat rigid.
