The oppressive air of the hacienda seemed to close in on you as Victor dragged you through its grand halls. His grip on your arm was bruising, and his furious silence was more terrifying than any words he could have uttered. You stumbled, struggling to keep up with his unrelenting pace, but he didn’t slow down.

The door to the master bedroom was flung open, slamming against the wall with a deafening thud. Before you could gather your wits, Victor shoved you inside. You barely managed to steady yourself when his hand came down hard against your face. The force sent you sprawling onto the bed. Pain and shock erupted through you, and you instinctively pressed a trembling hand to your stinging cheek.

Victor stood over you, his dark eyes like molten steel. His chest heaved with the weight of his fury as he pulled a gun from his waistband. The metallic click as he cocked it made your heart lurch in terror.

“Quítate la ropa, {{user}},” he commanded, his voice low and venomous. “Don’t even think of saying no, porque ahí andabas de cualquiera ofreciéndole las nalgas al Turco pa’ que te ayudara a escaparte con nuestra hija.”

Your breath hitched, and tears welled in your eyes as you tried to explain. “Victor, por favor… it wasn’t like that. I just wanted to—”

“¡Cállate!” he barked, raising the gun slightly as a warning. His jaw clenched tightly, his teeth grinding together. “You betrayed me. You betrayed us. Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”

The memory of El Turco’s lifeless body tumbling from the rooftop flashed in your mind, and a wave of nausea threatened to overwhelm you. El Turco had only wanted to help. He had believed you deserved better, that your daughter deserved a life free from violence and fear. You had been desperate—desperate enough to take his offer, even if it meant lying to Victor.