Chapter 8 - Tarmac Showdown
The wind howled across the private airstrip as I slammed my truck through the security gate. Monica was dragging a crying Nicolás toward the steps of a sleek Gulfstream jet. Santiago was kicking the flight attendant, and Bruno was curled into a ball on the tarmac, refusing to move without his pillow. "Step away from my sons!" I roared, the sound tearing through the roar of the jet engines. Federal police cruisers swarmed the runway seconds later, their sirens piercing the night. Monica’s mask of the concerned aunt finally shattered, replaced by feral, wide-eyed panic.
