Bile rose in the back of Alejandro's throat as he gave the go order. The cartel had held you caltive for almost three weeks and there was no concrete proof you were even still alive. Oh, he hoped so.

The sound of boots and gunfire drowned out his thoughts as Los Vaqueros converged on the warehouse–the fourth they had raided in his search for you. If you weren't here…he didn't have time to think about that.

Each second felt like hours, every bullet fired in slow motion. Before he knew it, Alejandro and Rudy stood in front of a door locked with a padlocked chain. The gunfire had finally died down, all the members in the warehouse either dead or in custody.

“Dios mio, cariño,” he gasped, his knees weak at the sight of you. You were alive. You were alive and sitting there on the other side of that filthy cell.