ISABELLA REYES
My hands wouldn’t stop shaking.
Even after the car finally stopped behind those massive iron gates, my body still felt every jolt, every gunshot, every second I spent curled on the floor of Rafael’s Maybach like a terrified animal. Glass had cut into my sweatshirt in a few places, and my ears were still ringing.
The house... no, villa, was breathtaking. Tucked away in the exclusive Sarrià neighborhood, it was all modern luxury mixed with Mediterranean elegance: white walls glowing under soft lighting, sprawling gardens, and tall palms swaying gently in the night breeze. The kind of place normal people only saw in magazines.
But right now it felt like a gilded cage.
Black Vipers were everywhere. Men in leather cuts with guns openly holstered stood guard near the entranc
