Chapter 18 - The Siege of San Pedro"Mateo! Get up!"
Valeria didn't panic. She didn't freeze. The adrenaline hit her bloodstream like a freight train, sharpening her senses to a razor's edge.
Mateo bolted upright, his eyes wide in the darkness. The puppy began to bark frantically at the sound of the gunfire echoing from the first floor.
Valeria grabbed her custom 9mm Glock from the bedside drawer and racked the slide. She shoved two extra magazines into the pockets of her silk trousers.
"Shoes on, Mateo. Now," she ordered, her voice completely steady.
The little boy didn't cry. He slipped on his sneakers and grabbed Valeria’s free hand.
The master suite's heavy doors shuddered as someone pounded on them from the outside.
"Señora Ríos!" a muffled voice shouted. "It's Silva! Hector sent me to extract you! Open the door!"
Valeria’s eyes narrowed into lethal slits.
She pushed Mateo behind the heavy marble pillar of the fireplace. She raised her gun, aiming directly at the center of the heavy oak door.
"Stand back from the door, Silva!" she shouted, feigning panic. "I don't have the key!"
"I’m going to shoot the lock, Señora! Step back!"
Three... two... one...
The lock shattered inward. The heavy door swung open.
Silva stepped into the room, his assault rifle raised. He wasn't looking to extract anyone. He was sweeping the room for targets.
Valeria didn't hesitate.
BANG. BANG.
Two shots perfectly placed in the center of Silva’s chest. The traitor gasped, dropping his rifle as he collapsed onto the carpet.
Valeria stepped over his body without a second glance. She picked up his dropped assault rifle, slung it over her shoulder, and grabbed Mateo’s hand.
"We are going to the panic room in your father’s study," Valeria whispered to the boy. "Do not let go of my hand."
They moved into the darkened hallway. The mansion was a warzone. The smell of sulfur and blood hung heavy in the air. Down below, Hector and his men were fighting a brutal, close-quarters battle against the Sombras mercenaries.
Valeria kept low, moving with the silent precision she had learned during her days of trying to stay invisible as a maid. She knew this house better than anyone.
They reached the second-floor landing just as three mercenaries bounded up the sweeping marble staircase.
Valeria shoved Mateo behind a heavy bronze statue. She unslung the assault rifle, stepped into the open, and pulled the trigger.
The burst of gunfire caught the first two men in the chest, sending them tumbling backward down the stairs. The third man dove for cover, firing blindly into the dark. Bullets shattered the crystal chandelier above Valeria’s head, raining glass down around her.
She ducked, her heart hammering. She was outgunned, and the study was still fifty feet down the hall.
Suddenly, a heavy, suffocating silence fell over the first floor.
The gunfire stopped.
Footsteps—slow, deliberate, and echoing with absolute arrogance—sounded on the marble stairs.
"Hold your fire," a raspy, chilling voice commanded from the darkness below.
A man stepped into the moonlight filtering through the shattered skylight. He wore a sharp white suit, unbothered by the blood on the floors. His face was half-covered by a horrific burn scar.
El Fantasma.
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He hadn't gone to Laredo. He had let Alejandro chase a ghost, while he walked through the front door of the Ríos empire.
"Valeria Gómez," Fantasma called out, his voice smooth and mocking. "A maid playing at being a queen. Come out. Give me the boy, and I’ll make your death quick."
