Chapter 2 - The Black Box

"Stay here," Alejandro ordered, his romantic vulnerability instantly replaced by tactical command. He pulled a heavy Glock 19 from a hidden biometric safe in the wall and chambered a round. "The door is reinforced steel. It locks from the inside. Do not open it for anyone but me or Mateo."

"Alejandro!" Valeria cried out, grabbing his arm. "Don't do this. We can escape through the back—"

"I am done running," Alejandro said, his eyes blazing. "And I am done letting you run. Lock the door."

He stepped into the hallway, the heavy door sliding shut behind him with a resounding thud.

The estate was a labyrinth of shadows and flashing red lights. Alejandro moved with a predatory grace, his military training from his youth kicking in. Below, in the grand foyer, the sound of shattered glass and suppressed gunfire echoed off the marble floors.

Mateo and the security team had engaged the intruders, but there were too many of them. Hector had hired professional mercenaries.

Alejandro slipped down the servant’s staircase, flanking the main hall. He saw three men in tactical gear advancing toward the stairs that led to the family wing.

Without hesitation, Alejandro raised his weapon and fired. Two men dropped instantly. The third spun around, returning fire, shattering a priceless antique vase beside Alejandro’s head. Alejandro ducked, rolled behind a marble pillar, and returned two precise shots, neutralizing the threat.

"Mateo, status!" Alejandro barked into his lapel mic.

"We are holding the main hall, sir, but they cut the main power grid. They are trying to flush us out," Mateo replied, breathing heavily. "Sir, one of the cameras caught a vehicle pulling around to the east wing. Hector is here. He’s leading a secondary squad."

Alejandro’s blood ran cold. The east wing.

The guest room where Valeria and Sofía were hiding had floor-to-ceiling reinforced glass, but it wasn't designed to withstand sustained explosive charges.

"Hold the line, Mateo. I'm going for Hector," Alejandro said.

He sprinted back up the stairs, taking them three at a time. The sound of a heavy drill echoed from the end of the corridor. Two mercenaries were attaching a breaching charge to the steel door of the guest room. Behind them, standing in a bespoke suit with a silver-tipped cane, was his uncle Hector.

"Well, well," Hector called out into the dark hallway, sensing Alejandro’s presence. "The prodigal nephew. I must say, you lasted longer than I expected. But a man distracted by a ghost and a bastard child is bad for business."

"Step away from that door, Hector," Alejandro’s voice boomed from the shadows.

Hector laughed. "Or what? You'll shoot me? I own the police, Alejandro. I own the judges. If you kill me, you rot in a cell, and I still win."

"I don't need a judge to sentence you," Alejandro said, stepping out of the darkness, his weapon aimed squarely at his uncle’s chest.

"Set the charge!" Hector yelled to the mercenaries.

Alejandro fired, hitting the mercenary holding the detonator in the shoulder, but the man fumbled and the device activated. A high-pitched beep filled the hallway.

"Get down!" Alejandro roared.