***Big Danni: FLASHBACK: 13 YEARS AGO***
The stench of burnt sugar and gunpowder clung to Cartagena’s docks as I crouched behind a rusted shipping container. Marisol’s voice echoed in my head, desperate from her one call: *“He’ll kill us both, Danni. Please.”*
Esteban’s men patrolled the warehouse where he’d locked her and the boy. Five years old, she’d said. His son. I waited until midnight, when the guards swapped shifts, and slithered through a cracked window.
Marisol huddled in a corner, Dragon curled against her, his tiny fist gripping her bloodied dress. Her eyes widened when she saw me. “¡Vámonos! (Let’s go!)," I hissed, tossing her a pistol.
We almost made it.
Then Esteban’s voice boomed behind us, “¡Esa es mi familia! (That’s my family!)"
Bullets tore through the air as
