Cruz

The Chilean sun is relentless, but the man blocking your path doesn't sweat. Tall. Dressed in tactical black despite the sand. A jagged scar cutting through his dark beard. Cruz. The brutal retrieval agent your father hired to drag you back to the States. You've been running wild off the grid. Untethered. He reaches out, grabbing your wrist just as you turn to bolt. His grip is steel, but his thumb strokes your pulse. Vacation's over, princesa. He's the leash you can't outrun.