The crisp autumn air stung my skin as I stepped out of the plane in the country of Spain. 

My heart pounded with the weight of what lay ahead.

This was the price I had to pay for a promotion that I clearly deserved. This was my price for rejecting my boss's advances towards me when I requested a promotion and a raise, all for my sick mother who was battling with sickle cell anaemia.

Life they say is unfair, but mine was beyond that. It was cruel. I had become accustomed to struggling ever since my dad decided to just disappear from my life because he couldn't handle my mother's health crisis anymore.

I had struggled, working and schooling, just to afford my mother's medication and hospitalisation, and had successfully achieved my dream of being an FBI agent.

The dream had slowly become a nightmare when I watched the people who had gotten in at the same time with me get promoted to the position of a senior agent, leaving me at the bottom with a salary that could no longer cover my mother's bills.

My boss, chief Slade, thought he could take advantage of my desperation when I had gone to demand my promotion from him. The pervert did not know how much I was willing to prove my worth, even if it meant going to the devil's den to dig out the devil himself.

I cross-checked my handbag for the file I was given, containing the vague information about my target. 

Luca Castillo, the don of the Spanish Mafia, was suspected to be responsible for the murder of a prominent council member back in New York. 

There were never any tracks leading to him in any of his crimes, but it was obviously him. Everyone just knew it, especially since he never hid his potential when he threatened people. It was like a portfolio for him, yet no one dared apprehend him.

Those who had tried it were always brought back in body bag; cop or civilian. This was a dangerous gamble, but it was the only option I had.

I collected my bags and headed to the arrivals where I was to meet my handler.

"Welcome, agent Rose," a man in dark shades greeted me, a warm smirk on his face. He looked familiar.

"I'm agent Trevor Wright. I'll be your handler for this mission. It's nice to meet you again," he formally greeted, leading the way. I responded with a formal smile.

Agent Trevor Wright, I recalled suddenly. He got into the FBI after me, yet he had been promoted to the position of a senior agent in Spain. 

I listened to him talk cryptically about our next location after I got settled into the hotel prepared for me. I barely had three hours before I began the mission.

"Club El'Lobo. That's where he'll be tonight, agent. You're to blend in with the crowd. Just gather more intel on him, and we can move from there," he ordered firmly.

A feeling of jelausy swirled in the pit of my stomach at the way he gave orders. 

I bit my lip, painstakingly maintaining the professional smile on my face. "Noted," I stated, zoning him out for the rest of the journey.

I was doing this not just for my sick mother but to prove myself to him and every other agent who had looked down on me.

*

Club El'Lobo.

"Target should be in the club in the next ten minutes. Keep moving, and don't stop until you get to the bar," I heard the sharp voice of Trevor through the tiny device in my ears.

He was seated somewhere in the club with his eyes trained on me and a glass of whiskey in his hands.

I stalked over to the bar, flashing the bartender an innocent smile. 

"What would you like to order, miss?" He asked, a smirk on his face as he flexed his muscles while wiping the counter. His Spanish accent weighed in his words.

"I'll have a shot of tequila, please," I murmured. I needed the boost for the perilous task ahead of me.

The loud music in the club made my head ache. Parties had never really been my things, especially with my sick mother. The only clues I had on how to blend in were the ones I had learnt from watching some movies the night before.

I crossed my legs and wore a smile that I hoped would pass as being seductive.

The bartender winked at me as he placed the shot in front of me.

"It's on the house," he stated, his fingers grazing the back of my palms as he handed me the drink.

I pressed my lips into a thin line at the contact. He obviously was reading too much into my act, so I pulled away sharply. 

I stared at the entrance and downed the entire content of the shot glass, wincing slightly as the drunk burned my throat.

Suddenly, the atmosphere in the club shifted. It was so obvious that I felt the hairs on my neck stand on its end. The music seemed to faint into the background, and the gyrating movements slowly came to a stop.

"Agent, he's here," I heard Trevor's voice faintly from the earpiece, and my heart leapt unto my throat.

Then I saw him. Luca Castillo. Walking into the club like he owned the whole world. My lips parted.

His eyes were piercing and beautiful, and his jawline stood out from those of anyone in the club. His broad shoulders definitely stood out in the crisp white shirt that hugged his frame tightly. His exuded both beauty and danger.

The sea of people parted as he walked, his aura hypnotic and confident. My eyes remained fixed on him until he disappeared into the shadows of the place labelled VIP.

"This is your moment, agent. Seize it," Trevor whispered through the ear piece.

I didn't need to be told twice. Ignoring the bartender who had his eyes fixed on me, I stealthily crept towards the VIP lounge. 

The plan was simple. Assess his operations and trail him to find out here he lived. Get in as a maid and gather as much intel as possible against him. This was madness, but if that was what it cost to save my mother, I was willing to go all in.

I stood at the entrance of the VIP lounge. Eyes trained on him. Heart pounding furiously. 

He settled on a seat and began to speak with a man in a dark suit who looked apprehensive. 

Hoping to hear more, I attempted to move closer, but I was stopped by a burly bouncer with an ugly scowl.

"Where is your pass?"

I kept my eyes on my target while trying to form a simple sentence, "I-um-I—"

My words got stuck in my throat when the devil suddenly turned in my direction, eyes dark as he held my gaze for a long moment.

Dread sunk my stomach, and I pulled away from his gaze, pressing my back to the wall as I tried to catch my breath. Something about his stare choked me.

I took a deep breath to steady myself before peeking into the lounge again, but to my horror, he was gone. A gasp escaped my lips.

No! No!

I dashed out through the open door, my heart racing.

I searched the whole environs of the club for him, but he seemed to have vanished. The parking lot was empty. It was almost like he was never there.

My heart sunk. Where could he have gone? 

I stood in the empty parking lot, frustrated after searching everywhere. Suddenly, a low groan floated into my ears. 

What was that?

My curiosity got the better of me as I slowly crept in the direction of the sound. 

"Agent Rose Anderson. What do you think you're doing moving away from the target?" I heard Trevor grit out.

Suddenly, I felt my anger rise. I pulled out the earpiece from my ears and slipped it into my clutch purse. I was done with him bossing me around like a little child. 

My eyes grew wide, and my breath hitched at the gory sight in front of me.

A bloodied man lay on the floor helplessly, surrounded by some men in black. One of them pointed a gun at him.

"Please," he pleaded with a faint and shaky voice. "I'm sorry."

"Las maldita ratas no merecen vivir," the man with the gun spat before pulling the trigger with a loud bang. 'Rats don't deserve to live.'

A gasp escaped my lips, but I covered my mouth with my hands and hid in the shadows, my heart pounding furiously against my chest.

Curiously, I peeked out to look at the scene again when the sound of a pounding footstep sounded behind me. Suddenly, a muscular person grabbed me from behind, and a cloth was pressed to my nose. I drew a sharp intake of breath, and everything went black.