One minute Diego was standing; the next, he found himself on the floor with someone's foot pressed against his head.
He groaned in pain as his face scraped against the ground under the pressure.
It was too early to tell how bad it was, but he could already feel the sharp sting of injury on his cheeks.
"You bastard! I'll kill you!" Juan shouted, his eyes sharpening as he stumbled forward agitatedly, his hands raised, clenching into a hard fist.
Seeing their cue, his friends raced back to the van to grab their tools.
However, before any of them could rush forward, the other two bodyguards pulled pistols from inside their suits.
The parents who saw this shrieked and scrambled backward. Those who didn't see the guns only needed to see others retreat before instinctively doing the same.
The thugs, on the other hand, froze—eyes widening in disbelief.
