67;

Leonor sat on the cold floor, her mind racing. She had to get out of this place before she became a pawn in yet another one of these cruel games. She would never be used as Armando's weakness, she didn't want to play damsel in distress.

She got up quietly and tiptoed to the door. Her hand was on the knob when it turned on its own, and the door swung open. The hooded man was standing there, his expression unreadable.

"Going somewhere?" he asked, blocking her path. Leonor took a step back, her heart pounding. "I... I was just looking for the bathroom," she lied.

He didn't move. "The bathroom's not this way."

She sighed, knowing she had to try another approach. She looked at him, really looked, and saw something in his eyes that didn't match the rough exterior. "You don't seem like the kind of guy who does this sort of thing," she said softly.

He seemed taken aback. "What do you mean?" He asked. "I mean, you don't look like you fit in with the mafia, with criminals," Leonor pressed on,