"Honey, we're having a little class reunion at our old friend’s bar tonight. Wanna come too? Everyone says they miss you," she said over the phone.
I could hear the bass from the bar pounding in the background, voices shouting over each other. I acted concerned and said, "Alright. I’ll head over now, might as well come pick you up."
Honestly, bars like that were chaotic, too many people, too many corners. It wouldn’t be hard to set someone up.
Maybe that was the point. Maybe this was her way of drawing me out. But fine. I wanted to see what she was playing at.
Before I left, I messaged someone important. Just in case.
When I pushed open the door to the private room, Ysabel walked up and melted into my arms like nothing ever happened. I swallowed down the urge to push her away.
She looked up at me with those fake tearful eyes and said softly, "Honey, I was wrong earlier, okay? Can we stop fighting? You're still the one I love the most."
I didn’t say anything. Not in front of all these people.
Fraser stood nearby with that smug look plastered on his face. "Alright, everyone, cheers to Jairo! Our big shot over here. Say the word and he’ll hook you up with a job!"
That got the rest of the table excited real quick. A few of them crowded around, clinking glasses. I went along with it, had a couple drinks, but then I started feeling... off.
My limbs felt heavy. My lips tingled. Something wasn’t right. I tried to stand, but my knees nearly buckled. That’s when Fraser stepped in, holding me up like we were best friends.
"You’re drunk, bro," he laughed. "Relax, I called a driver for you. Let’s get you outta here."
Everyone else was still laughing and chatting, not paying attention. Once we were outside, he guided me into a car and when I tried to slide out, he shoved me back in without a word.
He smiled down at me, but there was nothing friendly in it. "Jairo, I really didn’t wanna go this far. But you? You just keep pushing it."
I had a million questions but no strength to ask them. He pulled off his outer shirt, tossed it aside and slid into the driver’s seat.
The engine started. The bar lights faded into the rearview. We were headed into the dark, onto some road with nothing but shadows.
"You realize this is a country with laws, right? What the hell are you doing?" I managed to mutter, my voice slurring.
He glanced back, then chuckled like this was just some fun little road trip. "What am I doing? Sending you off, man. Don’t worry, after you’re gone, I’ll make sure your parents are taken care of. Your wife too. Real good care."
Fraser's smirk widened like he was enjoying every second of this. "You really didn’t know, huh? Your precious wife’s been sleeping with me for ages. You’re the only one still treating her like a damn queen."
I tried moving again, struggling to reach into my pocket for my phone, but he caught on fast.
He snatched it from me and tossed it right out the window like it was nothing. "Trying to call the cops? Keep dreaming."
That was it. My last shot. Gone.
Without thinking, I lunged and bit down on his arm, hard enough to taste blood, hard enough to tear something if I could.
"Shit!" he screamed, face twisting in pain. He smacked me across the face—once, then again. "You crazy son of a bitch!"
My mouth was full of blood. My head was spinning. My limbs felt useless, but I kept fighting. Then he grabbed the back of my head and slammed it into the window with a sickening thud.
"I should’ve ended you a long time ago," he growled, breathing heavy. "You bite me again, I’ll make sure you never open your damn mouth again."
And just like that, he grabbed a small handful of glass shards from the cup holder, God knew how long he had been planning this and forced them into my mouth.
I screamed, the sharp edges cutting into my tongue, my gums, blood pouring fast now.
He looked so damn satisfied. "You still think someone is gonna save you out here? Nobody’s coming. This road’s dead. You’ll rot before anyone finds you."
Just as he reached for something else, the car suddenly jolted.
The whole front end shook like it had been hit. Tires screeched. The vehicle veered off and rolled to a shaky stop at the edge of the road.
And then, flashing red and blue lights. Sirens. Doors slamming. Shouts from every direction.
Fraser froze. Police cars had boxed us in. Out of nowhere. The lead officer stepped out, eyes locked on the car, jaw clenched.
Fraser’s mouth opened, but nothing came out. Checkmate.
"We got a call for help! Step out of the car, now! No funny business! You’ve got three seconds or we’re coming in!" one of the cops shouted through a megaphone.
