Chaos erupted. Men in black crashed into each other, fists flying, bodies colliding like a filthy bar brawl with no rules and no brains, just bone and blood smashing stupidly together.
The man holding me released his grip to join the fight.
In that ugly, anarchy mess, I bounced and stumbled through swinging bodies, my eyes scanning rapidly for Rafael.
I found him.
Straddling the same bulldozer-built man who had restrained him earlier, Rafael pummeled him with relentless force.
His knuckles were white, his face twisted with brutal savagery as he kept punching a body already limp and blood-soaked.
"No, Rafael, don't kill him… Rafael!" I screamed, desperate to reach him, to pull him back from himself, but my voice drowned in the violent roar of the fight.
I tried to push toward him, but the crowd shoved me back again and again.
And that was when fate chose its worst moment.
