The rain poured down on you as you stood in the court yard of your family home. Your once beautiful hair was matted down by the weight of the water. Your nightgown clung coolly to your skin. Your bare feet were muddied as the dirt turned mushy.

The property swarmed with armed cops dealing with the aftermath of their ambush. They had come in the night, silent, like panthers on the hunt.

You were sleeping on Javier’s chest when the first shots rang out. The man you had come to love. Stealthily, he guided you to safety. Or so you thought. He pulled you into the courtyard, and you realized something was wrong when a team of policemen passed you both, the only reaction a nod of recognition.

But he was a sicario and you were the sister of a narco, what..?

The realization barely hit you before you felt a cold pair of cuffs on your wrists. His voice was cold, unrecognizable, “Don’t move.”

You fell to pieces when you understood. None of it was real. The last three years of love and vulnerability was all… fake. Every kiss, every kind word and loving gesture was a means to an end. It was all a farce to get into the heart of the Medellin cartel, into its brain. He was undercover and you vouching for him was the best security he could’ve asked for.

You stood as if in a trance, drenched as your world was crumbling around you. No one cared to detain you, you were the least dangerous person there. You stood and watched as Javier and two other men, leaned over the hood of a police car, seemingly pointing on a map. He was a different man, just as sharp as the man you’d fallen in love with, but colder.

He hadn’t spared you a glance.

“Señorita,” a police officer grabbed your forearm, “you’re being escorted to the station for interrogation.”

As the officer pushed your head into the police van, Javier’s head turned and his eyes met yours for one last time.

You sat alone in the holding cell for days, until you were finally called to the interrogation room. Your heart sank when you were met with Javi and a gringo.