The rain had slowed, but the storm had only just begun.Alejandro stood in the great hall of the estate, the echo of his last words hanging in the air like smoke after a gunshot. The silhouettes of his mother, his brother, and Elena remained etched in the shadows as he walked away, his coat drenched, boots heavy with water and resolve. Carlos fell in beside him, silent but ready. Outside, Luz Holdings' private security had secured the perimeter. No one would be escaping unless Alejandro allowed it."What now, jefe?" Carlos asked, his voice low.Alejandro didn't stop walking. "Now we burn the rest of it down. Every lie. Every name. I want files on every Velázquez associate, every off-shore account tied to Joaquín, and every transaction Natalia Rojas touched.""And Elena?""She dies in the dark. Quietly." No emotion in his voice as he spoke.Carlos nodded. "Understood." he always understood.But as they reached the armored vehicle parked near the gate, Alejandro's phone buzzed. A mes

The storm outside mirrored Alejandro’s mind. Pain, hurt, betrayal and more but not confusion.Rain slammed against the high windows of the estate he had temporarily made his command center—an old coastal villa once owned by a distant cousin in Galicia. His inner circle was scattered across rooms, working like pieces of a machine, but a machine under pressure, overclocked, fraying at the edges.He stood by the fireplace, staring into the flames as memories clawed their way back from the depths. Betrayal. Secrets. Power. But the ghosts he had tried to bury were louder now.It began with a photograph Natalia Rojas had left behind, whether by accident or intent, he didn’t know. It showed a young woman with eyes too much like his. Beside her, a teenage boy, maybe thirteen, thin and guarded, clutching her hand. Behind them stood a man whose face was half-obscured, but the Jiménez family crest was emblazoned clearly on the sign behind him.He turned the photo over. A date. Fifteen years

Twelve Years Ago – The InstituteThe halls of San Juan de la Cruz were sterile, quiet, and filled with things Santiago Reyes didn’t understand. But he was smart. Smarter than they expected. He learned quickly not to ask questions. Not to cry. Not to look anyone in the eye unless they wanted him to.The other boys were older. Harder. He was "The Ghost." A nickname born from his silence and strange eyes that were too sharp, too calculating. But the priests didn't mind. In fact, they watched him more closely than the others.At night, he’d lie awake and repeat the only name he remembered:“Natalia.”Not "Mom." Not "Mother."Just Natalia. No endearment. Void.His days became a routine of tests, drills, conditioning. Then one day, a new man came to the Institute.Tall. Elegant. Snake eyes.Joaquín Salgado.He didn’t speak to Santiago right away. He just observed. Weeks passed before the man sat beside him during breakfast.“You know who I am?” Joaquín asked.Santiago stared at h

Hours After the Breach – Abandoned Train Yard Outside MedellínThe train yard was silent, moonlight spilling over rusted metal and old locomotives like a shroud. Somewhere in the maze of abandoned cars, Natalia Rojas was being held.Alejandro was crouched behind a stack of crates, he was scanning the terrain through thermal goggles. Beside him, Santiago adjusted the scope on his rifle. Lucía waited just behind them, gun holstered, her jaw tight.“She’s alive,” Santiago said.“You’re sure?” Lucía asked.He nodded. “I can feel it.”Alejandro kept his eyes forward. “No mistakes tonight. We extract her, grab intel, and get out before Ana turns this into a trap.” he didn't want mess ups.“She already has,” Camila said through the earpiece from the mobile van nearby. “There are no fewer than twelve heat signatures, and none of them are twitchy enough to be new recruits. These are trained.”“Mercs?” Santiago asked.“Better,” Camila replied. “Loyalists. Ana's personal guard.”Alejandro cli

Ana’s head throbbed. Her wrists were bound to a steel chair, her ankles shackled. The room was dim, humming with fluorescent lights and shadowed corners. Shocked but also wanting to be ready.But it was the scent that triggered her memory: sandalwood and ash a very old, forgotten blood.She blinked into focus just as a shadow detached itself from the wall.“Comfortable, hermana?”Ana’s breath caught in her throat.That voice.No. It couldn’t be. He wasn't suppose to be here.“Rafael?” she whispered.He stepped forward, aged but unmistakable angular face, sharp eyes, Jiménez blood in every feature. The brother who had died in a cartel purge two decades ago. Buried. Burned. Gone.“Dead men don’t speak,” Ana said slowly.Rafael smiled.“Then you’re talking to a ghost.” he smirked._____Interior – Luz Holdings Safehouse – War RoomAlejandro stood stone still, watching the static on the monitor. Joaquín had vanished in the chaos of the raid. Mateo was free but unconscious. The compound wa