Sara's POV

I was six years old again and a gun was pointed at my father.

Run, Sara. Run!

My heart was racing at the mere sight of the gun. I tried to cover my ears from the noises. Then I realised it was within me.

My mother was screaming in my head.

I screamed and collapsed, my knees buckling under the weight of memory.

Even Evelyn Rodriguez, with all her polished sophistication, crumbled at the sight of a gun.

But when Carlos Alvarez’s furious gaze locked onto me, something ...