The foreigners

The old lady was adamant about letting her go, convinced she was being held captive by the men who also bore bloodstains on their hands and clothes like a butcher's apron after a gruesome day's work. Her eyes darted from one man to the next, her wrinkled face a mask of fierce determination and deep-rooted fear. She clutched her shawl tighter around her frail shoulders, as if drawing strength from its worn fabric, her knuckles white with tension. The dim street light cast eerie shadows, making the stains on their clothes look even more ominous.

Hans stepped forward, trying to keep his voice calm despite the tension in the air. 

"Yes, she's our friend. We've been looking for her. She's in shock," he explained, his voice steady but his eyes betraying a hint of desperation. He wore a black hoodie, now stained with streaks of dark red, and his hands trembled slightly as he held them out in a placating gesture. His jeans, once a crisp blue, were now smeared with dirt and blood, the fabric torn at the knees.

The old woman shook her head, her eyes narrowing into suspicious slits. Her gaze was sharp, like a hawk's, missing nothing as it swept over the group.

"She has blood on her hands. You all do," she pointed out, her voice laced with suspicion and edged with accusation. Her weathered face, lined with years of hardship, showed no sign of yielding. "How do I know you're not the ones who hurt her?" she demanded, her voice rising with each word. The weight of her mistrust was palpable, hanging in the air between them like a physical barrier.

Hans glanced at his companions, silently pleading for their support. To his left, Bryce stood in a blood-smeared leather jacket, his once-white t-shirt underneath now a gruesome shade of crimson. His rugged face, usually stoic, was etched with worry. His jeans were ripped, and his boots were caked with dirt and blood. To Hans's right, Nick, clad in a flannel shirt soaked through with blood, shifted uncomfortably. His cargo pants, stained, clung to his legs like a second skin. The stench of sweat and fear was almost overwhelming, mingling with the metallic tang of blood in the cool night air.

"Body, body, body in the house" Jessica began muttering, her voice distant

...

CHAPTER ONE

She has blood on her hands

Bryce grabs his one bag luggage from the trunk of the taxi parked in the market square, he looks around with utmost distaste, the bustling market square was a kaleidoscope of colors and sound, teeming with life under the sweltering Mexican sun. Stalls lined the narrow pathways, each one overflowing with an array of goods that seemed to represent every corner of the country. Brightly colored textiles in intricate patterns hung from wooden frames, their vivid hues catching the light and drawing the eye, the scent of fresh tortillas being cooked on hot griddles mingled with the pungent aroma of spices, creating an intoxicating blend that hung in the air. 

Vendors called out to potential customers, their voices a cacophony of Spanish phrases promising the best deals. Children darted between the stalls, laughing and chasing each other, their carefree movements stark contrast to the determined bargaining happening around them. A mariachi band played lively tunes near a fountain in the center of the square, their music adding a festive atmosphere to the market, the sound intertwined with the chatter of the crowd and the occasional shout of a vendor sealing a deal.  

They had arrived in Guadalajara, a vibrant city in the western part of Mexico and the capital of the state of Jalisco. The city was famed for mariachi music and tequila, both of which originated here. Guadalajara was located 350 miles northwest of Mexico City, and was nestled in a valley surrounded by the Sierra Madre Occidental mountains. It boasted of a moderate climate, beautiful architecture, lively festivals, a strong blend of tradition and modernity, making it a major econocultural hub in Mexico.

Bryce felt a bead of sweat trickle down his temple as he navigated through the throng of people. He could feel the heat radiating off the cobble stones beneath his feet, making the air shimmer slightly. The sheer volume of people and sensory overload made him uneasy, his eyes darting around as if expecting trouble to emerge from the sea of faces at any moment; he glanced at the Guadalajara's city guide brochure squeezed in his left hand, taking a deep breath, he released it on a sigh as if to tell the universe he was exhausted just then, Hans wheeled his luggage past, he could swear that his friend was in a chirpy mood as always. Typical Hans, always feeling ecstatically happy.

Bryce Hall was a cautious, age 20, somewhat skeptical individual, who had a rugged look with short-cropped hair and a lean build. Hans Michigan, also the same age as Bryce on the other hand, was the group enthusiastic, always eager for an adventure, and had a tall, athletic frame to his bright full eyes alight with excitement. "Man, this vacation is going to be greaat! woo!" Hans blared, his excitement palpable. 

Offering him a sidewards glance and unable to share his excitement, Bryce offered no comment still smarting from the loss of their yearly game which Hans had won earlier that month. It was an unspoken tradition that the winner got to choose their vacation spot for that year. The guy had won three times in a row and managed to pick some part of Mexico the world was yet to learn about.

" Thanks for helping me with this by the way"  Jessica whined, glancing at Hans with tired eyes who rushed back to her aid. Jessica Campbell was a sharp witted 18 year old attentive young lady with a graceful appearance and sleek long blonde hair which was usually tied back into a tight ponytail. For some reason though, she looked ruffled with her hair strands sticking out in all directions due to the wind. 

The three friends gathered together looking like lost puppies waiting to be fed while they waited for Nick to return. Natives in the market square could obviously tell they were newcomers on vacation, some sellers walked up to them trying to sell them make believe vacation hats, sun glasses and t-shirts which they all declined.

Nick Acron, the calm and collected one, oldest of the group, 21 years of age, who often acted as the mediator of the group had a sturdy build and reassuring presence, he finally returned to the group, and they were all relieved to see him, but Jessica was the most relieved in particular wanting to get over this nightmare already, it was evening, she was tired and jet lagged from their 3 hours flight from dallas, Nick had left the group earlier to go ask for directions to their Air bnb.

"I just saw this security dude, he said it still goes all the way up the hill just about the only building up there". 

"The cab dude finessed us" said Bryce, annoyed that he had once again been sidelined just like earlier today when that bitch of a flight attendant had thought herself smart and given his seat to a pregnant lady claiming her hormones demanded that she look at the cloud, I mean who does that!

"Guys let's just go check in already, i might faint if i don't get rest, and i'm pretty sure you guys don't want to carry me"

"I'd carry you" Hans joked around which got her irritated, at that instant the sharp screech of tires against the cobblestones pierced the air, drawing every eye in the crowded market square. A police car, its light flashing urgently, came careening around the corner at a speed that seemed reckless for the narrow, bustling streets. The vehicle fishtailed slightly, sending up a cloud of dust before the driver expertly corrected course and brought it to a controlled drift. 

The car skidded sideways, tires smoking and came to a halt mere feet in front of the group of friends. The sudden arrival sent a shockwave through the market, vendors and shoppers alike pausing in their activities to stare at the unexpected spectacle, as the dust began to settle the driver's side door was flung open, and a uniformed officer stepped out, his face set in a grim expression. 

The man was tall and broad-shouldered, his presence commanding attention. He adjusts his cap surveying the scene with a piercing gaze and the palpable tension that now hangs in the air. Another officer exited the passengers side, quickly moving to join his partner. The police car starts to get shot at, they both duck behind the car using it as a shield.

"Get down , get down!!"  the officer barked at the 4 friends in shock standing alongside each other, he started exchanging shots with 2 tattooed native mexican gang members at the opposite side of the market, this threw the 4 friends off their guard, Hans runs to the open back door of the police car and dives in head first, lying on the seat screaming while holding his head, the remaining three crouch, resting their backs against the car covering their ears as instructed by the cop, they all kept squirming from the unbearable gunshot sounds, Hans couldn't hold it in anymore so he vomited on the car floor mat.

"Did you just vomit inside my car!?" irritated by Hans, The grim looking officer took cover from the bullets to criticize him, he goes back to exchanging shots.

"Let me guess you all are new here" his partner ducks reloading his bullets.

"Yes we're looking for the crusty inn" Nick replies.

"oh, the crusty inn?" the 2nd police officer stands up and shoots one of the thugs straight in his head, causing him to stumble to the floor, dead, seeing that the other thug panics and quickly runs away from the scene. 

The partner officer sprinted after the thug, his powerful strides eating up the distance between them. Each movement was swift and fluid, precision carved from years of training. As he closed in, he pounced, tackling the thug with the force of a battering ram. But the thug was no easy prey. With a grunt, he twisted his body and threw the officer off, both men crashing to the ground in a flurry of limbs.

Their scuffle was immediate and fierce, a whirlwind of punches and grapples. The sellers around them abandoned their goods to speculate the fight surrounding them, their eyes wide with a mixture of excitement and morbid fascination.

The market square transformed into an impromptu arena. Natives gathered around, their voices rising in a chaotic chant, urging the combatants on. It was as if this violent spectacle was a recurrent occurrence, an expected break in the monotony of their daily lives, while the group of friends who had been in recovery moments earlier now watched in stunned silence. 

The officer landed a solid punch to the thug's jaw, but the thug retaliated with a brutal knee to the ribs. The officer staggered but quickly regained his footing, determination etched into every line of his face.

Meanwhile, the four friends, appalled by the chaos unfolding before them, couldn't help but notice the enthusiastic reaction of the onlookers. As if to punctuate the madness, various sharp objects—knives, forks, and other items sold in the market—began to fly through the air. Each one a glinting missile aimed at the open space between the fighters.

The crowd's frenzy reached a fever pitch when an axe landed near the thug's feet. He glanced down, and picked it up with a vile smile donning his blood soaked teeth, the officer seemed unfazed, the 4 friends squeezed their way into the crowd to catch a better view of the fight watching the officer in what seems like an unfair fight to the thug's favour who's holding an axe with a deadly grin. 

"Yo, somebody gotta help dude over here" Hans felt a crushing weight settle in his chest as he watched their one legitimate hope to find their inn teeter on the brink of death, desperation clawed at him.

"You go in there and help him dumbass" before Bryce could complete his statement, the police shot the thug in the arm, causing the axe drop on the floor, he knelt down wallowing in pain. 

"Guess he didn't really need help afterall" Nick said.  The officer handcuffed the thug dragging him amid the disbanded malcontent crowd, who wanted more action than this 2 seconds spat.

"Dude brought a gun to an axe fight" Hans was impressed by the officer as he walked past them, they accompanied him, he kindly gestured a cab to help them to their destination.

The drive to their Airbnb, which took about 15 minutes, was a tense, silent journey,each minute stretching out interminably as the events of the market square replayed in their mind. 

The car navigated through the narrow, winding streets of the town, leaving behind the chaotic bustle of the market. The vibrant colors of the town seemed muted, their usual charm overshadowed by the group's collective anxiety. Hans stared out the window, his mind racing with the police car skidding to a halt and the officer going after the thug. His heart felt heavy, weighed down by the realization of how close they had come to real danger. The hope he had for a carefree vacation was rapidly dissolving into fear and uncertainty.

Jessica sat in the back seat alongside Nick and Bryce, her eyes wide and unblinking, still processing the chaotic scene. She could hear the echoes of vendors shouting and screech of tires, the sensory overload leaving her feeling disorientated and vulnerable. She hugged her arms around herself seeking some semblance of comfort in the cramped space.

The once pleasant anticipation of reaching their Airbnb had been replaced by a desperate need for the safety it promised. As they drove past colorful houses, none of the usual charms registered; instead , every shadow seemed to hold potential threats, every passerby a source of unease.

The car's engine hummed steadily, a stark contrast to the turmoil within the vehicle. The group's conversation, once lively and full of excitement right from getting on the plane, through their fly had dwindled to a heavy silence. Each of them was lost in their thoughts, grappling with the sudden shift from their vacation mode to survival mode. The Indian subtly tries to sell the upsides of Mexico to them for the reminder of time before they got to their Airbnb, preaching to them all about their norms and practices, only Hans engaged him in his gibberish.   

As the indian driver finally pulled up to the Airbnb, the sight of the welcoming, building offered a fleeting moment of relief, the sun had set, casting long shadows across the courtyard, the air had cooled, carrying the distant sounds of the town settling into the night, the lone glass building stood in its glory surrounded by trimmed bushes, the driver parked the car and turned off the engine, the sudden quietness almost deafening.

They stepped out of the car, their movements slow and deliberate, as if afraid that any sudden motion might shatter the fragile calm. The driver helps them with their luggage out of the boot, Nick proceeds to pay but the driver politely declines.

"There are still good people in this country" Hans said as he consciously carries Jessica's luggage, the heavy ceramic door of the Airbnb creaked open, they stepped inside carrying their luggages, dropping it at the door, hoping the cool, airy interior would offer some respite from the tension that had gripped them.

But even as they settled into the comfortable surroundings, the market scene lingered in their minds, a stark reminder that their idyllic vacation had taken a dark and unpredictable turn, the moon served as their vision until Bryce switched on his flashlight as he led the way into their stay, Nick flicked the switch repeatedly but there was no power, the flash light reflected the entire living room, the ground rug was ruffled and the couch was slightly misplaced.

"I'm going to go check around guys"  Jessica went ahead with a flashlight checking the entire 2 bedroom building compartment if it was clean and fit to stay in, this is something the other 3 would never get used to, her constant obsession for things to stay clean and perfect, the three guys laid helpless on the living room couch exhausted.

"I'm leaving a bad review, this is not what was displayed on bookings" she walked back to them complaining "and what IS THAT smell" trying to trace it to the kitchen which was in the same space as the living room, the guys neglected her trying to sleep, she wouldn't stop bugging them with complaints about the place,

"I'm gonna go take a shower" she felt a mix of nerves and determination as she headed to the bathroom, the pregnancy test clenched tightly in her hand. The house was quiet, the subdued murmur of her friends' conversations filtering through the door as she stepped into the tiled sanctuary. The bathroom was spacious and well- appointed, with polished fixtures and a large mirror that reflected her anxious expression.

She took a deep breath, the cool air of the room calming her slightly as she moved to the counter. Carefully, she places her phone face down at the edge of the sink, unwrapping the pregnancy test, setting it on the edge of the sink. The silence seemed to amplify every small sound, from the rustle of the packaging to the faint drip of a leaky faucet.

With a sense of purpose she turned towards the toilet, she sat on the toilet to pee on the stick, but a strange, metallic smell caught her attention. Her brow furrowed in confusion as she glanced around, trying to pinpoint the source. The air was thick with an unidentifiable odor, something that sent shivers down her spine. 

Jessica's gaze fell on the bathtub, the shower curtain partially drawn. A sense of dread crept over her as she approached, her steps slow and hesitant, the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end as she reached out, her hand trembling slightly, as she pulled the curtain back, her phone beeps, giving her a jump scare, she immediately turns around and falls backwards into the liquid filled tub, her pregnancy test flings to a corner in the bathroom, she was stopped by an obstacle in the tub, her phone fell from the vibration, it was dark she couldn't tell or see what it was, the liquid in the tub was a bit sticky, her scream pierced the silence, a raw, primal sound that echoed off the tiled walls. The boys, startled by her frantic cries, bolted from the living room and sprinted down the hallway, Hans was first to reach there with his flash on her, his heart pounding with a mix of fear and urgency. He burst through the door, taking in the horrifying scene in an instant. Nick and Bryce were behind him, their faces pale as they processed the situation.

Sprawled in the bathtub was Jessica and just behind her a lifeless body, Jessica seeing as she's covered in blood from the chin downwards starts to quiver and slowly turns her head to the corpse, with the eyes gouged out of the skull behind her, her breath coming in ragged gasps. Panic surged through her, freezing her in place for a moment before she found her voice, the head of the corpse fell on her shoulders down to her laps, she held the head with both hands and threw it against the wall,she screamed, her voice cracking with terror, the boys dragged her out of the tub.

"Come on, Jess, you need to get out of here" Nick said, his voice a mixture of concern and urgency pulling her out of the tub with Hans. Bryce, unable to tear his eyes away from the body, muttered a curse under his breath.

"What the hell happened here?" he whispered, his mind racing to make sense of the grisly discovery. They run to the kitchen, Jessica goes into a state of shock, she becomes a walking corpse withdrawn from nature, the boys locked into a hysteria of turbulence. 

"We need to call the police," Bryce said, his voice trembling as he pulled out his phone to dial 911. 

"911, what's your emergency!?" The dispatcher's voice crackled through the receiver. Bryce's voice came in rapid gasps as he clutched the phone, pacing the kitchen with frantic steps. The dim light cast eerie shadows on the walls, heightening his anxiety. To his utmost surprise, Nick, eyes wide with alarm and his face a mask of panic, slapped the phone out of his hand.

"You put that away right now!" Nick commanded, his voice a strained whisper as he struggled to keep his composure, his hand shaking as he pointed towards the discarded phone. The air between them was thick with tension, each breath a heavy, suffocating weight.

"Hooooollllyyy shit, what the fuck was that, what the fuck was that, what the fuck was that!!" Hans' voice broke the uneasy silence, a raw scream tearing through the room. His hyperventilation was audible, his chest rising and falling erratically. His face had turned an ashen shade, eyes wide and darting around in sheer panic, desperately seeking answers in the chaos. Bryce was equally shaken, his breath coming in rapid, shallow gasps. His hands trembled, and a cold sweat beaded on his forehead as he tried to process the reality of the situation.

"First the market and now this, ohhh we're fucked, and it's all your fucking fault, with your stupid… oh, we're going to Mexico, best vacation," Bryce mimicked Hans with a bitter, biting tone. "We should never have come here, all YOUR FUCKING FAULT!" His voice rose to a fever pitch, the veins on his neck standing out as he clenched his fists at his sides, the anger boiling over.

Hans, feeling the blame and pressure, began to freak out, his defensive posture almost crumbling. "How is it all my fault?? Did I know all this was going to happen?? Did I predict this!??" His voice was high-pitched and desperate, as if seeking validation for his innocence amidst the unfolding nightmare. The room seemed to shrink around them, the walls closing in as each accusation and retort hung heavily in the air.

"Fuck you! Fuck youu!!" he moves towards Hans, fists ready trying to start a fight, "I dare you to say one more stupid shit, i FUCKING dare you to try to be funny right now" he threatened, his voice a low growl. 

Nick, sensing the situation spiraling out of control, stepped between them. The tension was palpable, a heavy, suffocating blanket over the room. "Is this the next fucking thing we need right now, to fight amongst each other instead of trying to figure out what to do next!?" His voice cracked with the strain of desperation. "By all means, if you think THIS is the best thing to do right now, please go ahead," he shouted, his voice tinged with despair. He stopped trying to separate them, his eyes darting between Bryce and Hans. Each man stared at the other, a silent challenge, but neither moved an inch.

"THINK, motherfuckers, THINK!" Nick stressed, his voice raw. "What the fuck do we do?" He gestured wildly, smacking his palms together with a resounding clap. The noise echoed in the stillness, a harsh reminder of their dire situation. The group huddled in the hallway, the reality of their predicament sinking in. The comfort and safety they had hoped to find in their Airbnb had been shattered, replaced by a chilling uncertainty. The market square incident now seemed like a mere prelude to the nightmare they were living.

"I say we leave here right now, book a hotel, and we gone first thing tomorrow morning," Bryce's voice trembled, his eyes wide with fear. His panic was contagious, making the air even more electric with anxiety.

"We can't. Our fingerprints are everywhere," Nick's voice was a harsh whisper. "We booked this place, WE told that cop we would be here, Jessica's print is on the body. Even IF we manage to escape, we'd be criminals in our own country." The weight of his words hung heavily, pressing down on their collective psyche. They walked back to the bathroom, each step echoing like a drumbeat of doom.

They stared down at the lifeless body with wide eyes, every muscle tense with a mixture of fear and revulsion. The bathtub, once a pristine white, was now stained with the gruesome tableau of death. Blood, dark and viscous, swirled in the water, painting it a horrifying crimson. The body's skull was cracked open, fragments of bone visible through the gaping wound. The eyes, lifeless and glassy, seemed to stare back at them, accusingly. Hans covered his mouth, fighting back the urge to vomit, but Nick didn't hold back, his stomach heaving violently as he turned away from the ghastly sight.

"So what do you suggest we do about this?" Hans asked, his voice a trembling whisper, barely audible over the pounding of his heart. His hand was still covering his mouth, his eyes wide and unblinking, as if closing them would make the nightmare disappear.

Nick didn't say a word, his mind a chaotic whirl of thoughts. He wiped sweat profusely from his forehead, the salty droplets stinging his eyes. The silence stretched on, each second feeling like an eternity as they grappled with the horror before them. Bryce's eyes darted from the body to his friends, the enormity of their situation pressing down on him like a physical weight.

"What… No, no, no, I can't do that," Bryce stammered, shaking his head vehemently. His legs felt like they were made of lead, his body rooted to the spot. He couldn't tear his gaze away from the body, the sight seared into his mind.

"We have to, there's no other choice," Nick finally spoke, his voice strained and hollow. He gestured towards the body, the reality of their predicament settling in. "If we don't, we're screwed. We can still make it out of this, but we have to act now."

"I'm not disposing of a body! For fuck's sake, we have no business with him!" Bryce was almost hysterical, his breath coming in short, sharp gasps. "I'm not used to this like you" he muttered but loud enough for Nick to hear .

"Why?" Nick protested "Because I'm black, you think I'm used to doing this?" He lashed out, his voice a mix of anger and fear.

Nick took a deep breath, trying to steady his shaking hands. "Listen, guys, we have to do this. I don't think you get it. If we leave it, our prints are everywhere. We have to dispose of the body before anything happens," he stressed, his voice firm but the underlying panic unmistakable. Nick ties a bandana to his nose and a handkerchief to grasp the corpse hand, careful enough not to leave prints.

He looked at Bryce and Hans, his eyes filled with a desperate urgency. "Grab the other joints," he instructed, his voice barely a whisper. The three boys hesitated, their reluctance palpable. 

Each of them was fighting the urge to flee, but the gravity of the situation forced them to stay, Nick, seeing Hans was making faces like he was about to puke "don't you dare man, hold it in" He warned Hans who couldn't hold it in any longer; he vomited on the floor, the sound and smell of it irritating the other two. Bryce clenched his jaw, his irritation barely contained as he shot Hans a look of disgust. Nick's face twisted in frustration.

"Just break the fucking legs man!"  the added mess only making the horrific task even more unbearable.

Nick, trying to keep his mind from the horror, focused on the task. He methodically broke each leg joint, his movements becoming mechanical. Each cracking of bone sent chills down his spine, amplifying his reluctance. 

The task was gruesome, and their hesitation made it even more excruciating. Bryce and Nick exchanged uneasy glances, their faces twisted with a mix of fear and revulsion, further aggravated by the lingering stench of Hans's vomit. Every snap and crunch was a brutal confirmation of their grim reality, each sound embedding itself in their memories.

The boys worked in silence, the atmosphere heavy with dread. Bryce took a deep breath and grabbed one of the body's limbs. The skin felt cold and lifeless under his fingers, sending a shiver down his spine. He looked over at Nick, who nodded grimly. With a sickening crunch, Bryce began to twist the limb, forcing the joint to give way. As the first bone cracked, the reality of what they were doing hit them like a wave. They were actually cracking a dead man's bones. The thought was almost too much to bear. Bryce felt bile rise in his throat, his hands shaking uncontrollably.

Hans, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, took over with trembling hands. He bent down, grasping another limb and applying pressure until he felt the joint snap. The noise was unbearable, the physical act even worse. The resistance of the tendons and ligaments was unsettling, a gruesome reminder of what they were doing. Hans's mind raced, filled with images of what could've been of the man when he was alive, and the realization that they were desecrating his body overwhelmed him with guilt and nausea.

Then, the body slipped from Bryce's grasp and dropped heavily to the floor with a thud. The sound echoed through the room, and for a moment, none of them moved. The initial fear was paralyzing, each of them staring at the lifeless form as if expecting it to move. Nick's heart pounded in his chest, the room seeming to close in around them.

"Somebody check on Jessica," Nick muttered, his voice muffled by the bandana covering his mouth. Hans nodded and left to look for her, grateful for the temporary escape. Bryce's irritation simmered as he struggled to focus on the grim task at hand.

Moments later, Hans came running back, his face pale with panic. "Guys, she's not in," he stammered, his eyes wide with fear.

Nick's heart sank. They abandoned their grisly task instantly, dropping everything as if the very air around them had turned to ice. The horror of the moment was etched into their faces as they began to search the apartment frantically, calling out her name.

"Jessica! Jessica, where are you?" Their voices echoed throughout the apartment, but there was no response. Every nook and cranny of the apartment was searched but she was nowhere to be found. 

Then Bryce noticed a trail of blood leading from the living room down the road. "Over here," he called out, his voice shaking. They followed the trail, their hearts pounding in their chests. The sight that greeted them at the end of the trail made their blood run cold. Jessica stood in the middle of the road, her tank top and short skirt covered in blood. She was talking to an old woman who seemed to be asking her questions, trying to lead her further away.

"Jessica!" Nick called out, rushing towards her. She turned to look at him, her eyes were blank and unresponsive, still in shock. The old woman looked up, her face stern and suspicious. "Is this your friend?" she demanded but Jessica wouldn't respond.

The old lady was adamant about letting her go, convinced she was being held captive by the men who also bore bloodstains on their hands and clothes like a butcher's apron after a gruesome day's work. Her eyes darted from one man to the next, her wrinkled face a mask of fierce determination and deep-rooted fear. She clutched her shawl tighter around her frail shoulders, as if drawing strength from its worn fabric, her knuckles white with tension. The dim street light cast eerie shadows, making the stains on their clothes look even more ominous.

Hans stepped forward, trying to keep his voice calm despite the tension in the air. "Yes, she's our friend. We've been looking for her. She's in shock," he explained, his voice steady but his eyes betraying a hint of desperation. He wore a black hoodie, now stained with streaks of dark red, and his hands trembled slightly as he held them out in a placating gesture. His jeans, once a crisp blue, were now smeared with dirt and blood, the fabric torn at the knees.

The old woman shook her head, her eyes narrowing into suspicious slits. Her gaze was sharp, like a hawk's, missing nothing as it swept over the group. "She has blood on her hands. You all do," she pointed out, her voice laced with suspicion and edged with accusation. Her weathered face, lined with years of hardship, showed no sign of yielding. "How do I know you're not the ones who hurt her?" she demanded, her voice rising with each word. The weight of her mistrust was palpable, hanging in the air between them like a physical barrier.

Hans glanced at his companions, silently pleading for their support. To his left, Bryce stood in a blood-smeared leather jacket, his once-white t-shirt underneath now a gruesome shade of crimson. His rugged face, usually stoic, was etched with worry. His jeans were ripped, and his boots were caked with dirt and blood. To Hans's right, Nick, clad in a flannel shirt soaked through with blood, shifted uncomfortably. His cargo pants, stained, clung to his legs like a second skin. The stench of sweat and fear was almost overwhelming, mingling with the metallic tang of blood in the cool night air.

"Body, body, body in the house" Jessica began muttering, her voice distant.

Nick swallowed hard trying to think of a way to convince the old woman "her name is Jessica"

Bryce was fed up with the old woman's relentlessness in letting her go, he grabbed Jessica by the arm, "Listen old lady, her name is Jessica and she's a friend of ours" and they walked back inside, Hans sat her down and kept watch over her.

"Good job dickhead, now you've called attention to us, and there's nothing stopping the old lady from calling the cops right now!!" Nick yells at Bryce

"Did you have any better ideas? Mr figure shit out, what did you expect us to do, leave her there??" Bryce replied, his voice was low but filled with a barely controlled panic .His eyes darted around the room, not wanting to meet anyone's gaze directly. Hans, leaning against the wall with his arms holding Jessica's shoulders, he let out a deep sigh, his forehead furrowed with worry.

Nick, pacing back and forth, finally stopped and faced them."Let's just get this over with," he said, his voice strained. Bryce followed him to the bathroom, the tension palpable in the small space. Hans stayed behind in the kitchen tending to Jessica. 

The kitchen was a masterpiece of modern architecture, with stainless steel appliances gleaming under the recessed lighting. The countertops were smooth, dark granite, and the cabinets were a pristine white, creating a stark contrast.

He picked up a wet towel and began to clean the blood off Jessica's face. His hands were shaking, the cloth slipping in his grasp. 

Jessica's skin was cold and clammy, her breaths shallow, Hans worked carefully, trying to maintain some semblance of calm, 

After cleaning Jessica, he wipes the sweat from his brow. He leaned unto the kitchen sink and splashed water on his face, trying to steady his racing heart.

"I need to get some fresh air," he muttered, heading towards the living room.

The living room was the epitome of modern elegance. Floor-to-ceiling glass walls surrounded the space, giving an unobstructed view of the moonlit forest outside. During the day, natural light would flood the room, but now, the expansive windows felt like a vulnerability. The sleek furniture – a large sectional sofa in neutral tones, a glass coffee table, and a minimalist entertainment center – gave the room a clean, uncluttered feel, but offered little comfort in the current situation.

The walls were adorned with abstract art, their vibrant colors standing in stark contrast to the neutral palette of the furniture. The fireplace, made of smooth, dark slate, was unlit, its emptiness adding to the sense of unease.

Each step Han took echoed in the large, open-plan living area, where polished concrete floors met minimalist furnishings. The house itself was a stunning blend of sleek modern design and open spaces, with expansive glass walls that offered panoramic views of the surrounding woods.

The house seemed to close in on him, every creak and groan of the old wooden floors amplifying his anxiety, the moonlight was his source of vision, he finally sinks into the couch, covering his face with his palm, sulking in the what has come to be their reality, one in which they didn't prepare for, when suddenly a rustling outside made him freeze. 

The noise came from the bushes. The glass walls, which usually offered a serene view of nature, now felt like they exposed him to the unseen threats lurking in the dark. He peered through the glass, the darkness outside making it hard to see anything clearly. His mind raced, imagining the worst possible scenarios.

The rustling grew louder, more persistent. Han's pulse quickened as he slowly stood up from the couch, every step a battle against the rising tide of fear. The noise wouldn't stop. Just as he was about to go to the bathroom to alert Nick and Bryce, a squirrel leaped out from the bushes, scampering across the yard. Han let out a shaky breath, relief momentarily washing over him.

As he was about to turn around to crash on the couch, he caught a glimpse of a shadow lurking in the bushes, he limps to the bathroom to tell the guys who were busy breaking the joints.

"Guys i think we're being watched, there's someone outside, i don't know how many of them" he says softly, not wanting to alarm anyone but unable to shake the feeling that something was off. 

Nick and Bryce joined Han in the living room, peering out into the dimly lit street. The modern house, with its expansive glass walls, offered an unobstructed view of the outside world—a feature that felt more like a curse than a blessing at this moment. Their breath caught in their throats as they spotted the two black SUVs parked just beyond the driveway, too close and too conspicuous to be a coincidence.

The vehicles were positioned with precision, as if to block any potential escape routes. The dark silhouettes of the SUVs against the faint glow of the streetlights gave them an ominous presence. The tension in the room was palpable, each passing second stretching unbearably.

Jessica, sensing the shift in the room's atmosphere, moved to see what was going on. She had been lying on the edge of the sofa, her nerves already frayed from the night's events. She sat up, her eyes widening as she took in the sight outside.

"You see the 2 SUV's?" Nick whispered, his voice tinged with fear.. "they weren't there earlier", 

"Do you think they're watching us?" Jessica asked, her voice barely above a whisper. The question hung in the air, a weight pressing down on them.

Nick turned off his flashlight and turned to face them, his expression grim; 

"We can't be sure, but it's better to assume the worst. We to keep the doors locked right now, and stay out of sight." His words were urgent, the underlying tension was unmistakable.

Suddenly, a sound broke through the silence—a faint, almost imperceptible noise coming from the back of the house. It was the unmistakable sound of a door handle being forced open. Jessica's heart skipped a beat, her eyes widening with fear.

"Did you hear that?" she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Han nodded, his eyes darting towards the back of the house. "Someone's trying to get inside," he said, his voice tight with tension. 

They moved quickly, their footsteps echoing in the quiet house. The living room, once a sanctuary of sleek modern design, now felt like a trap. The polished concrete floors, minimalist furnishings, and expansive glass walls offered little in the way of protection.

Nick led the way, his mind racing as he tried to come up with a plan. They needed to secure the house. He motioned for Bryce to follow him, while Han and Jessica stayed behind, their eyes fixed on the car outside.

The house, a stunning blend of modern architecture, felt like it was closing in on them. The open spaces and clean lines that once felt liberating now added to their anxiety. The floor-to-ceiling glass walls, which had once offered breathtaking views of the surrounding forest, now felt like windows into their souls, exposing their every move.

Nick and Bryce moved to the front door, their eyes scanning the room for anything they could use to barricade it. They dragged the heavy coffee table across the floor, its legs scraping against the polished concrete. They piled chairs and cushions against the front door and back door, creating a makeshift barrier.

Jessica and Han watched from the living room, their hearts pounding in their chests. Jessica's mind raced, her thoughts a whirlwind of fear and confusion. She tried to focus on the task at hand, but the sight of the two black SUVs outside kept creeping into her mind, a constant reminder of the danger they were in.

"Do you think they'll try to come in?" she asked, her voice trembling.

Han shook his head, his eyes never leaving the SUV's "I don't know, but this is serious, what if they're here to kill us, oh God." He sits on the couch breathing into his palm folded together to his face panicking.

Nick and Bryce finished barricading the door and moved to join them in the living room. They gathered around the large sectional sofa, the tension in the room almost suffocating. The moonlight casting long shadows on the walls, making the room feel even more claustrophobic.

"We need to stay alert and stick together," Nick said, his voice steady but filled with urgency. 

The vehicles sat ominously in the street, their dark forms a constant reminder of the threat lurking outside. The night air was thick with tension, the distant sounds of the city muted by an eerie silence that blanketed the neighborhood. The streetlights cast long, foreboding shadows, adding to the sense of impending danger.

Nick took a deep breath, his mind focused on the task at hand. They had to be ready for anything. Every muscle in his body was taut, poised for action. He exchanged a glance with the remaining three, their eyes mirroring the fear he felt. They would face it together.

Suddenly, the sharp sound of glass shattering cut through the silence. It was like a starting gun in a race for survival. The group jumped, their instincts taking over as they scrambled to one of the two bedrooms, the only sanctuary they could find in the small, dilapidated house.

In the cramped bedroom, the air was stifling. Nick could hear his heart pounding in his ears, the sound almost deafening in the oppressive silence. They huddled together, their breaths shallow and rapid. Jessica, Bryce, and Nick squeezed into the cupboard, its wooden panels creaking under the strain of their bodies.

Hans crouched by the door, his knuckles white as he gripped a makeshift weapon—a brass candlestick. His eyes darted around the room, his ears straining to catch any sound from outside. The tension was palpable, a physical presence that pressed down on them, making it hard to breathe.

The minutes stretched into an eternity as they waited in the dark, every creak and groan of the house amplified tenfold. Jessica's hand found Nick's, her fingers cold and trembling. He gave her a reassuring squeeze, but he could feel the fear radiating off her in waves.

The bedroom was small, barely large enough to fit a bed and a dresser. The walls were lined with aesthetic wallpapers, and the floorboards creaked with every movement. It was a far cry from the safety they so desperately needed.

Nick's mind raced. What if they found them? What if this was the end? He pushed the thoughts away, focusing on the sounds outside. They had to stay quiet. They had to stay hidden.

One of the thugs, a burly man with a scar running down his cheek, was on the lookout in the living room. His partner, a wiry man with a vicious sneer, made a beeline for the bathroom. they heard the soft thud of boots on the floor, the rustle of clothing as they moved.

The wiry thug let out a low whistle as he entered the bathroom. "Got something here," he called out in Spanish. His voice was barely above a whisper, but in the silence, it was as loud as a shout.

The burly thug grunted in response, his eyes scanning the living room. He inspected the traveling bags, his movements methodical and unhurried. When he saw the passports in the bag, he paused, a slow smile spreading across his face. "Looks like we found our friends." in spanish

In the bedroom, the group tensed. Nick could feel the panic in Jessica's loud breathing, and the fear in Bryce's trembling hands. Hans tightened his grip on the candlestick, his knuckles white with the effort.

Suddenly they heard it: the unmistakable sound of heavy footsteps coming closer. Each step seemed to echo ominously, the slow, deliberate pace suggesting the intruder was searching, listening and closing in on them, the adrenaline making them tremble at their hiding spots.

Jessica's hand flew to her mouth to stifle a gasp, her heart pounding so loudly she feared it might give them away, Hans grip tightened on the candlestick.

The footsteps paused just outside the door, the silence almost unbearable. The friends held their breath, every muscle tensed, as the door knob slowly turned with an agonizing creak. A sliver of light from the hallway spilled into the room, growing wider as the door inched open.

Time seemed to stretch out, each second dragging but with excruciating slowness , the thug's silhouette appeared appeared in the doorway, a huge mexican thug with with a scar running down his cheek and a sleeve tattoo backlit by moonlight, he stood there for a moment, surveying the room, his eyes cold and calculating. He turns around to walk away that was when the cupboard creaked, which prompts him to cautiously turn around and cock his gun, they could hear the thugs heavy footstep drawing nearer, stopping in front of the cupboard, the silence was almost unbearable, the anticipation excruciating Jessica squeezed her eyes shut as the thug opened the cupboard, for a brief, horrifying moment, Nick who was at the forefront of the cupboard eyes met with the menacing figure of the thug, his heart seemed to stop, the thug proceeds to shoot him but was stopped by the sirens blasting towards the Airbnb, he proceeds to exit the house with his partner. 

The blinding glare of headlights pierced through the windows, casting long, stark shadows against the walls. The sound of the car doors slamming and authoritative voices barking orders shattered the fragile quiet. Fear tightened its grip around their hearts once more as the realization hit them- they were not out of danger yet, Jessica stood frozen, her eyes wide with disbelief and terror. The surreal glow of the police lights turned the living room into a nightmarish tableau. Hans, still clutching to his makeshift weapon, drops it immediately raising his hands up, Nick and Bryce exchange a look of sheer desperation, understanding the gravity of their situation and how it had spiraled so far out of control.

The front door burst open, the Mexican police stormed in, their flashlight sweeping through the room, illuminating their frightened faces. Nick immediately kneels down in form of surrender out of instinct, the friends follow suit, the officer commands were sharp and unyielding, a stark contrast to the friend's dazed and disoriented state. 

"Manos arriba No se muevan" (hands up don't move)....looks like we meet again"the grim looking officer said noticing the friends

"Pukiemon!?" the more down to earth partner gesturing to Hans, wondering how he got into such a situation.

Hands Trembling, the friends complied, their minds racing with a mix of fear, confusion, and disbelief. Jessica's eyes filled with tears, her body shaking as an officer roughly patted her with her face down on the rug. Nick tried to keep his composure, but the enormity of the situation threatened to overwhelm him. Hans and Bryce knelt silently, their faces pale and drawn, the shock and horror of the night's event etched deeply into their expressions. 

As the police led Jessica outside she tried to fight it.

"No! No! No!, you can't let them take me away, no Hans!! Nick do something, guys I'm begging! Stop!! Please don't just stay there, do something" she starts screaming. Nick and Bryce's manliness could only take them so far their eyes got teary as they each got handcuffed, Hans wouldn't shy away from showing emotion as he cried while they dragged him away. 

As the police led them outside, the cold night air hit them like a physical blow. The scene was chaotic, with the flashing lights reflecting off the glass house, creating an almost surreal atmosphere. 

The officers began to speak in rapid Spanish, their words almost incomprehensible to the friends in their state of shock. One word, however, cut through the haze with brutal clarity: "Asesinato" (murder).

The full weight of the assassination crashed down on them like a tidal wave, Jessica's legs buckled, Nick's jaw tightened, anger and frustration bubbling beneath the surface. Hans felt a cold knot of dread tighten in his stomach, while Bryce's mind raced, desperately thinking of how they could prove their innocence. 

As they were handcuffed and placed in the back seats the reality of their situation set in. The body in the bathroom, the thugs, the mysterious SUV'- it all seemed like a twisted nightmare from which they couldn't wake, the overwhelming sense of helplessness and injustice weighed heavily on them, each of them grappling with their own tumultuous emotions.

Jessica stared out the window, tears streaming down her face, her mind replaying the horrific incident over and over again,  Nick clenched his fists, as the cop car he was in drove past the woman talking to jessica from earlier, the frustration of being powerless gnawing at him. He leans his head back against the seat, closing his eyes in an attempt to block out the chaos thinking about what led them to this dire situation to begin with, while Bryce's heart pounded, his thought a whirlwind of fear and determination.

CHAPTER TWO

A blessing and a curse

The room was stark and unforgiving, with bare walls and metal benches that did little to alleviate their discomfort. A single flickering fluorescent light cast an eerie glow, intensifying their sense of isolation and fear. The air was heavy with the scent of disinfectant and an underlying odor of sweat and anxiety, the friends huddled together, their faces pale with shock and disbelief. 

Day in day out, officers would walk past the cell trolling the foreigners in their dialect, the boys kept requesting for a phone call but got denied every single time, Jessica was overwhelmed with fear as she clung to Nick, she felt trapped in a nightmare, her eyes wide with terror and confusion, unable to comprehend how their vacation had taken such a dark turn. Nick held her tightly, his anger simmered down the surface, trying to provide some semblance despite his own mounting dread. He felt the weight of responsibility to protect his friends. Bryce sat with his elbows on his knees, hands clasped tightly, staring at the floor as he tried to process the horrifying turn of events. Hans leaned back against the wall, his normally cheerful demeanor replaced by a look of grim resignation, he was racked with guilt, blaming himself for choosing Mexico as their vacation destination that had led them to this point. 

The shock of finding a body in their Airbnb was compounded by the horror of being accused of the murder, the realization they were suspects hit them hard, turning their fear into anger, confusion and helplessness.  

The grim looking policeman dragged a slim looking tatted thug, bare chested, wearing orange trousers and boots into their holding cell, he scoffed at them as he walked away. An interrogator holding a bunch of files walked past the holding cell to the interrogation room, his eyes met with Nick

"I need to tell you something, guys," Nick called his friends to order, his voice tinged with urgency. He had this sense of foreboding, a need to confess something deadly, but was interrupted as the door to the holding cell creaked open. A much older, stern-faced officer stepped in with a clipboard in hand. His presence filled the small room with an air of authority, his voice cold and detached as he called out names for the interrogations.

Bryce was the first to go. He followed the officer into a sparse interrogation room, a single table and two chairs under the harsh glare of a lone, swinging light bulb. The detective who goes by the name Hector Gonzalez, a balding middle-aged Mexican with sharp eyes and a no-nonsense demeanor, wasted no time.

"So, túristas who come to our country to kill our natives, tell me how you and your people planned on walking away with this?," Hector demanded, his thick Spanish accent wrapping around each word, making the interrogation even more intimidating.

Bryce could feel the intensity of the detective's stare, those sharp eyes boring into him as if peeling away the layers of his soul. Hector's voice was a mix of disdain and controlled anger, each word a lash intended to provoke a confession.

"Answer me!" he snapped, slamming his hand down on the table. "You think you can come here, commit murder, and just leave? No, no, no. This is not how it works".

The room's oppressive heat seemed to amplify the detective's presence, making it harder for Bryce to think clearly. His mind raced, trying to find the right words to explain, to defend himself against these accusations, but Hector's relentless pressure made it nearly impossible.

"I know my rig–" Bryce started, but he cut him off.

His thick Spanish accent emphasizing his disdain. "You think this is USA? where you come from?"his voice dripped with sarcasm, "you commit a crime and get away with it? In here, your human rights don't exist; you are nobody, your life means nothing."

Bryce's voice faltered, barely above a whisper, "I want my lawyer" Hector laughed sarcastically "I want my call" he retrieved a chair and sat down opposite Bryce, his eyes narrowing. "I want my lawyer," Bryce repeated, trying to muster confidence. His voice seemed to shake despite his best efforts.

Hector laughed, a harsh, sarcastic sound that echoed off the bare walls, He leaned in closer, his breath hot and laced with a hint of tobacco. "you make your call to your lawyer, and what you spend a day or two more more dees in jail before he arrives, and you know what will happen to your soft american skin?, you have never been to jail before, let me give you a heads up, it's nothing like american prison, you have men in there who get arrested for ripping people skin off for a living, cutting people head off, you kill a cartel member, you won't live to see your lawyer".

Tears welled up in Bryce's eyes as the detective's words sunk in. He felt the full weight of his predicament pressing down on him. With a shaky hand, he reached for the phone, dialing the number he knew by heart. The phone rang, and he prayed for an answer. 

A lady's voice, crisp and professional, answered on the other end, "Hello, this is Johnson & Johnson's, how can I help you?".

Bryce swallowed hard, trying to steady his voice."Keshia? It's Bryce. Put my dad on the line please".

"Mr. Hall is in a meeting, but I'll see if he's available," Keshia replied, her tone softening slightly as she recognized the desperation in Bryce's voice.

Several agonizing moments later, a familiar voice came on the line. "This is Mr. Hall."

Relief washed over Bryce as he began to explain his situation, words tumbling out in a rush. 

"Dad, I'm in serious trouble. They're accusing us of murder. We need your help, please".

Mr. Hall's voice was calm and measured, a stark contrast to Bryce's panic. "Where are you?".

"I'm in Mexico dad, I'm in the station i, i don't know the name of the station, I don't know anything, we didn't do anything" he broke down.

"I will take care of it Bryce, help is on the way" he reassured him.

Hector, observing Bryce's desperation, allowed him to complete the call. Once Bryce hung up, he felt a small spark of hope, despite the detective's earlier threats.

Bryce stared at the phone, the fear still gnawing at his insides. His mind was racing—he had no idea how his dad would find him. He had been too panicked to give proper details. The thought gnawed at him until he remembered something.

"Keshia, she'll know what to do," he muttered to himself, trying to calm the rising dread.

As the minutes ticked by, Keshia wasted no time. She was not just any assistant; she had connections, the kind that could find someone in a foreign country in the middle of nowhere. She immediately began making calls, her voice calm but urgent.

"Listen," she said to one of her contacts, her voice firm, "My boss's in trouble. He's in a police station—Mexico, Guadalajara, I think. I need you to track him down. Now".

As she worked, the tension was palpable. Bryce's vague recollection of the details, the bustling activity, the sounds of vendors haggling—anything she could piece together, she relayed. She knew time was critical.

Far above the bustling streets, in the heart of Dallas Downtown Historic financial district, Mr. Hall's office occupied a prime spot in a sleek, modern high-rise. The floor-to-ceiling windows offered a panoramic view of the skyline, the cityscape stretching out in a dazzling array of lights and towering structures. As the sun dipped below the horizon, the office was bathed in a golden glow, casting long shadows that danced across the polished marble floor.

Mr. Hall looked up from his desk, his eyes sharp and focused. He was a man of elegance, every aspect of his appearance meticulously maintained. His suit, perfectly tailored, was a deep navy blue that complemented his silver tie. His salt-and-pepper hair was neatly styled, and his piercing blue eyes radiated authority and wisdom.

The office itself was a sanctuary of calm and order. Rich, dark mahogany paneled the walls, their surfaces gleaming under the soft, ambient lighting. Shelves lined with leather-bound books reached towards the high ceiling, each volume a testament to the owner's intellect and taste. A large, imposing desk dominated the center of the room, crafted from a single slab of walnut, its surface meticulously maintained, free of clutter save for a few select items: a brass lamp with an intricate design, a set of antique ink pens neatly arranged in a holder, and a pristine blotter with a personalized monogram.

Art adorned the walls, each piece carefully selected to reflect Mr. Hall's impeccable taste. A mix of classical and contemporary works, they added splashes of color and intrigue, inviting visitors to pause and appreciate their beauty. In one corner of the office, a globe stood on an ornate wooden stand, its surface detailed with golden inlays, symbolizing Mr. Hall's global influence and aspirations.

Keshia, moved with a grace that matched the elegance of the office. She was dressed in a tailored suit skirt that hugged her curves perfectly, her blonde hair cascading in soft waves down her back. Her presence was both commanding and welcoming, a perfect reflection of the office's blend of power and sophistication. As she walked, the click of her heels against the marble floor was the only sound in the otherwise serene space.

She tapped into every resource, pulling strings Bryce never knew she had. Hours felt like days, but she managed to get a breakthrough. One of her contacts recognized the description of the station—a small, nondescript building that often went unnoticed by tourists.

She relayed the information to Mr. Hall, who immediately began coordinating with local authorities and his own team of private investigators. The race was on to reach Bryce before things could spiral further out of control.

…..

Meanwhile, Bryce was isolated from the group and put in another holding cell, his hands shaking slightly as the weight of the situation pressed down on him. His father's reassurance echoed in his ears, but he couldn't shake the uncertainty gnawing at his gut. "What if they couldn't find him in time? What if…"  Nick couldn't seem to get his sight off the tatted Native who, since being caged kept a fierce gaze on him, he didn't read much into it but was careful enough to know that danger lurked. Jessica was called in next for interrogation.

Her turn was particularly harrowing, Hector's questions were pointed and accusatory, and she broke down several times during the long hours of interrogation. 

"Now, Jessica," he began, his voice dripping, each word rolling off his tongue with a sinister elegance, "I don't know if I said this earlier, but of your four friends, you have the most to lose. Your prints are everywhere".

He slammed a folder onto the table, the impact echoing through the cold, sterile room. Jessica flinched, her heart racing. Hector spread out the photos of the crime scene, her fingerprints stark and damning against the images. Each picture felt like a nail in her coffin, the evidence overwhelming and undeniable.

"You're looking at life, Jessica. Forty years minimum if the judge wants to be lenient," he continued, leaning in closer, his eyes never leaving hers. "Forty years, Jessica".

Hector's words felt like a death sentence. Jessica's vision blurred with tears, her mind spiraling into a vortex of fear and despair. She could barely breathe, each gasp for air shallow and desperate. The room felt like it was closing in on her, the walls pressing in with a suffocating grip.

"Do you understand what that means?" Hector's voice was a low, menacing growl, his accent wrapping around every word, adding a layer of menace. "You will rot in a Mexican prison, far away from everything you know".

Jessica's shoulders shook with silent sobs, her body trembling uncontrollably. The detective's gaze was unrelenting, his eyes cold and devoid of any empathy. He reveled in her misery, his lips curling into a cruel smile as he watched her break down.

"You think this is bad?" He sneered, pulling out a pregnancy test from his pocket and tossing it onto the table. "How old are you now? Twenty? Your child growing up in a Mexican foster care. In here, your baby will not be allowed to be taken out of the country. Your child will grow up not knowing you, and by fifteen your child will be tossed out, fending for themselves, and we all know how they end up here".

Jessica's tears flowed freely now, her breath hitching with each sob. Hector's words cut through her like a knife, each one a reminder of the hopelessness of her situation. She felt utterly alone, trapped in a nightmare with no escape.

Hector leaned in closer, his face mere inches from hers. "There is no escape, Jessica," he whispered, his voice a low, dangerous rumble. "You understand? No one is coming to save you."

Jessica's resolve crumbled completely, her spirit crushed under the weight of the detective's relentless assault. She felt like she was drowning, the room spinning around her. The detective's eyes bore into hers, unyielding, as if he could see straight into her soul.

"You will spend the rest of your life in a cell, alone and forgotten," he continued, his voice cold and detached. "Your friends will move on, but you will be stuck here, paying for their mistakes".

Jessica's world was unraveling with every syllable that slipped past Hector's lips. The weight of his words pressed down on her chest, making it hard to breathe. She felt like she was being suffocated, the air in the room thick and oppressive.

Hector leaned back, a satisfied smile playing at the corners of his lips. "There is no escape, Jessica," he repeated, his voice a haunting whisper. "You are mine now".

Jessica's tears continued to flow, her body wracked with sobs. She felt utterly defeated, her hope fading with each passing moment. The detective's presence filled the room with a sense of dread, his eyes locked on hers, unrelenting and cruel.

In that moment, Jessica knew there was no way out. Hector had broken her completely, his words leaving her shattered and hopeless. The room around her seemed to close in, the walls pressing in with a suffocating grip. She was trapped in a nightmare, and there was no escape. She recounted their journey, the horror of finding the body, and how they tried to contact the police making a break in their earlier tailored plan of requesting for a lawyer, the detective went further pressing her, his stoic expression and critical eye only added to her despair.

The door creaked open, a subtle sound that nonetheless sliced through the oppressive atmosphere of the interrogation room. All eyes turned toward the entrance as a figure stepped inside with an air of unassailable confidence. He was tall and impeccably dressed in a tailored navy suit that spoke of sophistication and authority. His dark hair was slicked back with precision, framing a sharp, clean-shaven face. A crisp white shirt and a silk tie completed the ensemble, exuding an aura of understated elegance.

The man's gaze was steady, his movements measured as he adjusted his tie, each motion deliberate and unhurried. His presence commanded the room instantly, drawing attention like a magnet. He moved with the assurance of someone accustomed to control, to power.

"That's all I remember!" Jessica broke down, her voice cracking under the strain, but Hector wouldn't relent. He kept bugging her, his tone relentless and cold.

Before Hector could utter another word, the newcomer's voice sliced through the tension.

"Jessica, you don't have to say anything further." The voice was calm, reassuring, carrying an undercurrent of authority that brooked no argument.

Hector's eyes narrowed, his irritation evident. "Who the hell are you?".

"I'm Nathan Wade," the man replied smoothly, handing over a pristine business card. "I was sent here by Mr. Hall. I will be your official lawyer for this investigation from here on out".

Hector studied the card, his jaw tightening. "You're here fast enough," he remarked, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

Nathan offered a small, confident smile. "Flew private," he said, a touch of pride in his tone. "I'd like a moment with my client, please".

Hector's gaze flicked back and forth between Jessica and Nathan, skepticism etched on his features. "You're representing all of them? It's not possible".

"Not totally, only if their interests align," Nathan replied, his voice unwavering. His words were like a steel hand in a velvet glove, firm yet polite.

Reluctantly, Hector backed down, casting a final intimidating glance at Jessica before leaving the room. The door closed behind him with a soft thud, leaving Nathan and Jessica alone.

Nathan moved to the microphone and turned it off, ensuring their privacy. He then pulled up a chair, positioning himself directly across from Jessica. His demeanor softened, the hard edges of his professional facade giving way to a more compassionate expression.

"Jessica, you don't have to worry now," he said gently, his voice a balm to her frazzled nerves. "I'm here to help".

Jessica felt a wave of relief wash over her, the sight of Nathan like a lifeline in a stormy sea. His presence was a beacon of hope in the otherwise bleak situation, his calm confidence infectious.

"I will sit with each one of you over the course of the interrogation," Nathan continued, his tone steady and reassuring. "Now, tell me what happened."

Jessica took a deep breath, drawing strength from Nathan's unwavering support. She began to recount the events, her voice steadier now, the comfort of having someone on her side fortifying her resolve. Nathan listened intently, his eyes never leaving hers, providing the support and reassurance she so desperately needed.

Nathan leaned forward, his piercing gaze meeting Jessica's. "According to the evidence, your prints are everywhere, and that's pretty incriminating. Where is Bryce and the rest of your friends?".

Jessica hesitated before signaling to the detective, who nodded and left to fetch the others. Nathan took a deep breath, his mind working through the details as he prepared to address the group.

When Bryce, along with the others, entered the room, they each wore expressions of fear and uncertainty. Nathan's presence seemed to offer a lifeline, a thread of hope in their dire situation. He motioned for them to sit, his demeanor professional yet compassionate.

"I'd like to see my other clients," Nathan announced, his voice steady and authoritative. Once everyone was seated, he began, "Your stories have to be uniform, don't falter. I'll be in there for each of you. Stick to the same story. You all are innocent; you met the body there. Necessary details will be provided—body cams from the airport, the booking of the Airbnb, and all the extra details. You all will be out of here in no time, I assure you".

He made eye contact with each of them, ensuring they understood the gravity of the situation and the importance of their consistency. "Now, remember," he continued, his voice taking on a firmer tone, "the evidence is stacked against you, but that doesn't mean it's insurmountable. We need to create a narrative that aligns with the facts but also exonerates you".

Nathan stood, signaling Bryce to follow him to the interrogation room. Bryce's steps were hesitant, his fear palpable. As they walked, Nathan placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "Just stick to the story. Remember what we discussed".

In the interrogation room, Hector's eyes bore into Bryce, scrutinizing every movement. Nathan took his place beside Bryce, a silent pillar of support.

Bryce began to explain their initial arrival at the apartment and the horrific discovery of the body. "We entered the apartment; it was dark, and there was no power. We were tired from the trip. Jessica went in to take a shower. We heard her scream, ran to check what had happened, and saw her laying on a dead body. We helped her up, and that was it."

Hector's relentless questioning made Bryce feel like he was under a microscope. Every word was scrutinized, every pause noted. Nathan watched the detective carefully, ready to interject if necessary.

"Why didn't you call the police immediately?"

Hector asked, his tone accusatory.

"I panicked," Bryce replied, his voice trembling. "I did but Ni…."

Nathan leaned forward slightly, his expression calm but firm as he cut in. "My client has already explained. They were in shock. It's a natural reaction under such distressing circumstances."

Hector narrowed his eyes but didn't push further. He turned his attention to Nathan. "You seem very confident, Mr. Wade".

Nathan's smile was small, almost imperceptible. "Confidence comes from knowing the law and understanding my clients' rights, detective. Now, if you have no further questions for Bryce, I'd like to see the next client".

Hector nodded begrudgingly, signaling the end of Bryce's interrogation. As they exited, Nathan placed a hand on Bryce's back, guiding him out and offering a few words of encouragement before turning his attention to the next person.

Back in the holding area, Nathan gathered them once more. "You did well" He patted Bryce "Remember, consistency is key. We stick to our story, and we show no cracks. Trust me, we will get through this".

His confidence was infectious, and the group found a small measure of solace in his words. Nathan's professional demeanor, coupled with his clear understanding of the law, provided them with a sliver of hope in a seemingly hopeless situation. 

Jessica followed Nathan into the interrogation room, her heart pounding like a drum in her chest. The fluorescent lights above buzzed softly, casting a harsh glare on the room's sterile interior. The detective sat at the metal table, his eyes cold and calculating, waiting for them to take their seats. Nathan's presence, however, offered a flicker of reassurance in the otherwise oppressive atmosphere.

Nathan motioned for Jessica to sit before taking his place beside her. He offered a brief nod of encouragement, then turned to face the detective. The room fell silent, the tension almost tangible.

"We came into the apartment; it was dark, and there was no power, so we couldn't see anything. I wanted to take a shower. I slipped and fell on the body." Jessica's voice was steady, repeating the narrative Nathan had drilled into them. It was their shared truth, the story they had to cling to.

Hector leaned forward, his eyes narrowing as he studied Jessica's face. "You expect us to believe that you just stumbled upon a dead body?"

Jessica swallowed hard but kept her gaze steady. "Yes. It was a shock to all of us".

Nathan interjected smoothly, his tone measured and professional. "Detective, my clients have been through a traumatic experience. It's not unusual for details to be fragmented under such stress. What's important is that their accounts are consistent."

Hector grunted but didn't press further. Jessica felt a small wave of relief wash over her as Nathan's calm, authoritative presence deflected the detective's suspicion.

After Jessica's session, it was Hans's turn. He entered the room with a sense of determination, his steps deliberate and controlled. Nathan once again took his place beside his client, his expression unreadable but supportive.

"It was late that evening when we entered the apartment. We were exhausted. Jessica went in to take a shower. We heard her scream, so we ran to the bathroom and saw Jessica lying on a dead body," Hans recounted, his voice unwavering. Nathan had made sure each of them understood the importance of their testimony aligning perfectly.

Hector's eyes bore into Hans, searching for any sign of deceit. "And you didn't think to call the police immediately?".

Hans shook his head, his expression one of earnest confusion. "We panicked. We were scared and didn't know what to do".

Nathan nodded approvingly, then addressed the detective. "As I mentioned earlier, panic can cause people to act irrationally. It doesn't imply guilt. My clients are cooperating fully with the investigation."

Hector sighed, clearly frustrated but unable to find any immediate flaw in their statements. He waved Hans off, signaling the end of his questioning.

Finally, Nick entered the room. Determined to stay calm, he faced the detective's relentless barrage of questions. Hector seemed convinced of his guilt, scrutinizing every detail of Nick's story and challenging his every statement. Of all three of his friends, the pressure was most immense on Nick, and he struggled to maintain his composure.

"We entered the apartment, it was dark and there was no form of power, we were ex…" Nick began, but the officer quickly cut him off.

"You were exhausted and heard a shout, blah blah blah." Hector's impatience was palpable. 

"I see you know how this goes since you're not new to this," Hector sneered, his eyes locking onto Nick's. "In and out of schools, got expelled at your last school, self-defense was it? Which landed you in juvie at the age of 12." He smacked his file on the table, making Nick flinch as documents spilled out. "So tell me, your old life starts catching up to you, you had no choice but to involve new friends and what? Dump them like you did your last ones? But you got more clever with this," he said, almost admiringly. "I have to give you that".

Hector leaned closer, his voice dropping to a menacing whisper. "All of their prints but yours on the dead body? I bet the little story you told them to stick to will break once they learn about this. I bet if I told them about this, they would have a change of mind about sparing you and leave you to rot."

Nick's face paled as the detective's words sank in. His bravado began to crumble under the weight of his past sins being dragged into the light. He felt cornered, every escape route blocked by Hector's relentless pursuit.

Nathan, sensing Nick's distress, stepped in. "Detective, my client's past is irrelevant to the current investigation. We are here to discuss the events of that night, not to rehash juvenile records."

Hector turned his icy gaze to Nathan, a smirk playing on his lips. "You think his past doesn't matter? It paints a pretty clear picture of the kind of person we're dealing with. A person who wouldn't think twice about letting his friends take the fall."

Nathan remained unflinching, his voice steady and authoritative. "Unless you have evidence directly linking my client to the crime, this line of questioning is not only irrelevant but prejudicial. I advise you to stick to the facts".

Despite Nathan's best efforts, he could see the cracks forming in Nick's resolve. The boy's eyes darted nervously, his hands fidgeting on the table. Nathan leaned closer to Nick, his voice low and reassuring. "Nick, focus on the events of that night. Remember what we discussed".

Nick nodded, but Hector was relentless. "Tell me, Nick, how do you explain all of their prints on the body but not yours? Seems like you're the mastermind here, pulling the strings while staying clean".

Nathan cut in sharply. "Detective, you're speculating without evidence. My client has explained his presence at the scene. Unless you have concrete proof, these accusations are baseless".

Hector leaned back, a calculated look in his eyes. "Oh, I have evidence," he said, his tone dripping with confidence. "I just need your client to admit what really happened. Tell me, Nick, were you the one who planned it all? Did you convince your friends to go along with it?".

Nick shook his head vigorously. "No, I didn't do anything. We just found the body, I swear".

Hector's gaze was unwavering. "And yet, your prints are nowhere to be found. Convenient, isn't it?".

Nathan stepped in again. "Detective, my client has already stated his case. If you have new evidence, present it. Otherwise, this interrogation is over".

Hector smiled, a cold, predatory smile. "Oh, we're just getting started. You see, I spoke with your friends. They're all sticking to the same story, but stories can change under pressure. How long do you think it'll take before one of them cracks and points the finger at you?".

Nick's eyes widened in fear. Nathan placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "Just stick to the truth".

But Hector had already planted the seed of doubt. "You think they'll stay loyal? When faced with the possibility of prison, people do desperate things. They'll say whatever they need to save themselves. And you, with your spotless record in this case, will be the easiest target".

Nick's resolve was crumbling. He could feel the walls closing in, the weight of his past mistakes pressing down on him. Nathan saw it too and knew he had to act quickly.

"Detective, this line of questioning is purely speculative and designed to intimidate my client. If you have no further evidence, we're leaving."

Hector leaned back, his smile never wavering. "Go ahead, lawyer. But know this: the truth always comes out. And when it does, your client will be right where he belongs."

Nathan told Nick to leave the room, feeling the heavy weight of the detective's words. He knew they were in for a tough battle, and Nick's past was a weapon the detective would continue to wield. As the door closed behind Nick, Nathan felt a sinking feeling in his chest. Hector's eyes bore into him, unwavering and unyielding.

"It's not looking good for your client," he began, his voice low and conspiratorial. "Only one of them has to take the fall for this. Give me Nick, or he drags your client down with him. He's not new to this, all about himself alone. His fingerprints not on the body should tell you all you need to know. Leaving your beloved clients at greater risk, they will all do jail time, no escaping that, but giving me Nick will lessen their time".

Nathan's mind raced. He knew Hector was right about Nick's past and the potential damage it could do. He had to protect Bryce and the others, but at what cost? The thought of sacrificing Nick weighed heavily on him, but the reality of the situation was undeniable.

After a hard thought, he reluctantly obliged. "What do you need from me?" he asked, his voice betraying a hint of resignation.

Hector's smile was thin and sharp, like a blade. "Just make sure Nick takes the blame. The others will walk away with minimal charges, if any. But Nick? He's the instigator. He needs to go down for this.

Nathan nodded slowly, feeling the burden of his decision settle on his shoulders. He knew he was betraying Nick, but he had no choice. Bryce was his priority. He had to protect them, even if it meant throwing Nick to the wolves.

Hector gestured to a cop. "Call in Jessica, will you?" The cop looked clueless, prompting the detective to add, "The blonde girl." in spanish.

Nathan watched as Jessica was brought in, her eyes wide with fear and uncertainty. She sat down, glancing nervously between Nathan and Hector. Nathan leaned in, his expression calm and reassuring. "Jessica, I need you to tell the truth, but we need to frame it in a way that protects everyone else except Nick. Do you understand?".

Jessica nodded, tears welling up in her eyes. "I don't want to go to jail," she whispered.

Nathan's heart ached for her, but he steeled himself. "You won't. Just stick to the story we discussed, and everything will be fine."

The detective watched the exchange with interest, his eyes narrowing. "Only one person has to take the blame, Jessica. Only one out of the four of you has to go away."

Jessica nodded again, her voice trembling as she recounted their story. The detective turns on  the microphone to record her testimony "We came into the apartment, it was dark, and there was no power. We were exhausted from the trip. I went to take a shower, and I slipped and fell on the body. We heard a scream and ran to the bathroom. We saw the body, and we were all scared".

The detective leaned forward, his gaze piercing. "And Nick? Where was he?".

Jessica hesitated, her eyes flicking to Nathan for reassurance. He gave her a slight nod. "Nick was… Nick was the one who suggested we wrap up the body, he… he was acting strange. He was the last one to enter the bathroom."

Hector's smile widened. "So, Nick was the instigator?".

Jessica nodded, tears streaming down her face. "Yes, he was."

Nathan felt a pang of guilt, but he knew it was the only way to protect the others, most importantly Bryce, his priority. The detective stood up, satisfied. "Thank you, Jessica. You can go now."

As Jessica left the room, Nathan felt a heavy weight lift from his shoulders, but it was quickly replaced by a gnawing sense of betrayal. He had to do the needful, but the cost was high. He had sacrificed Nick to save Bryce and the others. Hector turned to him, his expression smug.

"You made the right choice, lawyer. Sometimes, you have to make tough decisions to protect your clients".

Jessica's betrayal of Nick hung in the air, a heavy silence following her departure from the interrogation room. Nathan barely had time to process what had just transpired when Hector motioned for Bryce to be brought in next. Bryce entered, his face set in a mask of apprehension. He took a seat across from Nathan and the detective, his eyes darting nervously between them.

Hector wasted no time, leaning forward with an intensity that made Bryce flinch. "Bryce, your friends have been very forthcoming. We need you to do the same. Give us Nick."

Bryce swallowed hard, his gaze flickering to Nathan for support. Nathan gave him a reassuring nod, but the weight of what needed to be done pressed heavily on him. "Bryce, do as he says" Nathan urged, his voice calm but firm.

Bryce nodded, taking a deep breath. "We came into the apartment, it was dark, and there was no power. We were all tired from the trip. Jessica went to take a shower, and then we heard her scream. We ran to the bathroom and saw her lying on the floor with the body".

Hector's eyes narrowed. "And Nick? Where was he in all this?".

Bryce hesitated, glancing at Nathan once more. Nathan's expression remained steady, silently urging him to continue. "Nick… Nick was the one who suggested we go there," Bryce said slowly. "He said it would be a fun trip, but he was acting strange. He was the last one to come into the bathroom. He was… he was standing over the body when we got there".

Hector's gaze hardened, a predatory gleam in his eyes. "So, you're saying Nick was the instigator?".

Bryce nodded reluctantly. "Yes, he was".

Hector sat back, a satisfied smile playing on his lips. "Thank you, Bryce. You can go now".

Next, Hans was brought in. He looked exhausted, his shoulders slumped as he took a seat. Hector didn't waste any time, launching into his questioning with a relentless intensity.

"Hans, your friends have all gave up Nick to avoid years in jail, now it's your turn".

Hector leaned forward, his eyes boring into Hans. "when you entered the apartment, did he force you and Bryce to clean up the body".

Hans rubbed his face wearily, his eyes bloodshot from lack of sleep. He looked at Nathan, seeking some kind of solace or guidance. Nathan gave him a small nod, his heart heavy with the knowledge of what was to come.

"Not particularly" Hans began, his voice flat and tired. "Our prints were on the body".

"All of your prints except his, think about this Hans, you all except him will be facing life behind bars, now think about the next words that comes out of your mouth" he turns on the microphone

Hans sat up, reluctantly he gave him up "Nick was… he was the one who suggested we go there. He said it would be fun, but he was acting weird. He was the last one to come into the bathroom. He was standing over the body when we got there".

"So, Nick was the instigator?" Hector, his voice cold and sharp.

Hans nodded slowly. "Yes, he was".

Hector's smile was thin and satisfied. "Thank you, Hans. You can go now".

As Hans left the room, Nathan felt the full weight of his actions settle on him. He had orchestrated a betrayal, painting Nick as the villain to save the others. Hector turned to him, his expression triumphant.

"You did well, lawyer. Now we have everything we need".

Nick was brought back into the interrogation room, this time without Nathan present. Hector played out his friends' statements against him. He felt the sting of betrayal keenly; the lawyer had abandoned him, and his so-called friends had turned on him to save themselves. Hector's smirk was the first thing Nick saw as he was pushed into the chair. Hector laid out the scenario with a calculated calmness, his eyes never leaving Nick's.

Nick's heart sank as he understood the full weight of the accusation pressing down on him. Hector leaned in, close enough that Nick could smell his aftershave. "Your friends have told us everything. We know you were the instigator, Nick. This doesn't look good for you".

Nick's mind raced, panic setting in as the reality of his situation became clear. He was alone in this. Hector's words pounded in his ears, the betrayal of his friends feeling like a knife to his back. His lawyer had chosen to save the others at his expense.

Hector's voice was cold and precise. "We'll offer you a court-appointed lawyer. They'll be here soon. But you should know, they're not going to be able to do much for you, given what we have."

Nick's anger flared, but it was dulled by the overwhelming sense of despair. He felt abandoned, betrayed, and utterly trapped. The door opened, and a new lawyer walked in. Hector gave a nod and stepped back, allowing the lawyer to take a seat across from Nick.

"Hello, Nick," the court-appointed lawyer said, her voice calm and measured. "I've been briefed on your case. We need to discuss your options."

Nick barely heard her. His thoughts were consumed by the realization that everyone had turned against him. He was the scapegoat, the one who would take the fall for everything. The lawyer continued talking, outlining potential defenses and strategies, but Nick's mind was elsewhere.

Hector watched from the corner, satisfied that the pieces had fallen into place. Nick was cornered, and there was no way out. He had manipulated the situation expertly, using Nick's past and the fear of his friends to orchestrate the perfect betrayal.

As the lawyer spoke, Nick's eyes glazed over. He felt the weight of his fate crushing down on him. The hope that had been a lifeline was now gone, replaced by a cold, hard reality. He was alone, and the walls were closing in.

The next morning dawned with a sense of dread hanging heavily over Bryce, Hans, Jessica, and Nick. The events of the previous day had them exhausted and emotionally drained, but there was no reprieve as they were escorted from their holding cell to the courthouse. The guards footsteps echoed ominously in the dimly lit hallways, a constant reminder of the gravity of their situation.

The friends were led into the courthouse in handcuffs, a stark contrast to the carefree tourists they had been just days before, the courtroom was large and imposing, with high ceilings and rows of wooden benches filled with vengeful natives hurling hurtful words at them and also suspicious looking mexicans seated at the far end of the court, the grim looking officer and his partner were in attendance for the trial also. The atmosphere was tense, the air heavy with anticipation.

Nathan stood at the defense table, his demeanor calm and collected, a stark contrast to the prosecuting attorney, who was rifling through a thick stack of documents with an air of grim determination.

Jessica, Bryce, and Hans sat beside Nathan, their faces a mix of apprehension and relief. They knew the stakes were high, but they also had faith in their lawyer's abilities. On the other side, Nick sat alone, his court-appointed lawyer whispering hurriedly in his ear. His eyes were dark and hollow, a stark reminder of the betrayal that had led him here.

The judge, a stern-looking woman with sharp eyes, called the court to order, and the murmurs died down. The prosecutor stood, a tall man with a commanding presence, and began his opening statement.

"Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, today we will present evidence that will show beyond a shadow of a doubt that the defendant, Nick Acron, was the mastermind behind the events leading to the tragic death we are here to discuss. We will show that his friends, the other defendants, were merely pawns in his dangerous game."