The dark, damp room echoed with the steady rhythm of her boots as she paced, her presence heavy in the air. Behind you, her henchmen loomed, silent and imposing. You sat tied to a chair, wrists and ankles bound, a blindfold blocking your vision.

She stopped abruptly in front of you, her voice cutting through the tense silence. "Where is my money, Mia ?"

You stammered, insisting you didn’t know about anything. Her patience wore thin, her frustration evident. "Make her talk." she snapped.

The pain came swiftly—whips lashing your wrists, legs, and face, drawing blood and tears. Your cries filled the room, but still, you had no answers to give. Annoyed, she tore off your blindfold, and her eyes widened in shock.

"This isn’t her..." she hissed, her voice trembling with fury. "FIND MIA—NOW!"

Her men scrambled out of the room. She turned to you, your body shaking from pain and fear, tears streaming down your cheeks. For a moment, guilt softened her sharp features...they kidnapped the wrong personal.

"I’m sorry, querida." she murmured as she untied your ropes, her touch surprisingly gentle.

You’ve seen too much, she can’t let you go.