Ashes of San Miguel

Blood in the Basement

Alejandro’s boots echoed against the cold concrete floor of the basement as the two masked attackers closed in. The dim light above flickered, casting their shadows like ghosts along the wall.

“You should’ve stayed dead, Jiménez,” the voice repeated—raspy, cruel, and all too familiar.

From behind a column stepped a third man. Taller. Unmasked.

Jaime López.

Alejandro’s eyes narrowed. “I should’ve known you’d show your rat face eventually.”

Jaime smirked, brandishing a knife. “You embarrassed me in front of Salgado. Got me demoted. Now you’re playing with fire, poking around in Velázquez business.”

“Funny,” Alejandro said coolly, wiping the blood from his arm with his sleeve, “I was just about to burn everything down anyway.”

Jaime lunged.

Alejandro sidestepped, slamming his shoulder into the first masked attacker and sending the man crashing into a metal cabinet. Sparks flew as a pipe burst overhead, hissing steam clouding the room. The second man grabbed Alejandro from behind, pinning his arms.

Jaime approached, knife gleaming.

“You always acted humble,” he snarled. “But I knew something was off about you. Poor men don’t carry themselves the way you do.”

Alejandro twisted his body, stomping backward and smashing the second attacker’s shin. The man yelped and dropped him. Alejandro ducked just as Jaime’s blade swiped past his face.

“You’re right,” Alejandro growled. “I was never one of you.”

He rammed his elbow into Jaime’s ribs, then kneed him in the gut. Jaime stumbled back, gasping.

The fight turned brutal—grunts, punches, the clash of flesh and fury. Finally, Alejandro knocked the second attacker unconscious with a pipe wrench from the wall.

Jaime staggered to his feet, holding his knife again, panting hard.

“You think this is over?” he hissed. “Velázquez has eyes everywhere. You’re dead, Jiménez. You just don’t know it yet.”

Alejandro stepped closer, eyes dark and cold. “Tell Walter this…”

He slammed his fist into Jaime’s face, sending him to the ground.

“…I don’t die easy.”

Hours later, Alejandro sat in a sleek black car, a bloodied towel wrapped around his forearm. Carlos drove in silence, eyes scanning the rearview mirror.

“You okay?” Carlos asked.

Alejandro nodded. “They’re desperate. That was a warning.”

“They were trying to kill you.”

Alejandro turned to the window. “Then they should’ve aimed better.”

Carlos handed him a flash drive. “Here’s the intel you asked for. Velázquez’s companies are interlinked, but one name keeps popping up: Salgado Holdings. And guess what?”

Alejandro raised an eyebrow.

Carlos smirked. “It’s not owned by Joaquín Salgado. It’s owned by a shell company… registered under Walter Velázquez.”

Alejandro’s grip tightened around the flash drive.

“So Walter’s laundering money through Cuatro Mares using Salgado Holdings,” he said.

“And guess what else?” Carlos continued. “Their next big deal is with a European tech firm—worth over 200 million pesos. One wrong move… and it all crumbles.”

Alejandro leaned back, mind racing.

“This is how I bury them.”

Meanwhile, back at the Velázquez estate, Walter stared out at the city skyline, drink in hand. Carmen Hernández stood beside him, eyes sharp with ambition.

“He’s becoming a problem,” Walter said. “He was supposed to be nobody.”

Carmen scoffed. “Alejandro is still poor. Still pathetic. He’ll burn himself out trying to beat you.”

Carmen the blonde wannabe lady still didn't undertsand what was happening, or she did understand but didn't want to accept the fact that the man she had been insulting was indeed strong and even more powerful than the one she had chosen for her daughter.

Walter’s jaw twitched. “Don’t be so sure. He’s changed. And Elena—she’s hesitating.”

Carmen’s lips thinned. “She’ll come around. She just needs… reminding of her place.”

Walter turned to her. “Then remind her. Because if she walks away now, everything we planned dies.”

He said and just like a puppy Carmen shook her head in acceptance as she planned on what she was going to tell her daughter to make sure she knew she had to be of the best behavior.

That same night, Elena sat in her hotel room, rereading the letter Alejandro had sent her. Her fingers trembled. The way he wrote… it wasn’t angry. It was sad. Conflicted. Powerful.

Then her phone buzzed.

A message from an unknown number:

“If you care about Alejandro, come to the San Cristóbal pier. Midnight. Come alone.”

She stared at the message. Her heart pounded.

Alejandro… what are you doing?

At midnight, the San Cristóbal pier was cloaked in fog and moonlight. Boats rocked gently in the water. Elena stepped carefully along the planks, her heels clicking softly in the silence.

She saw a figure waiting at the end of the dock.

But it wasn’t Alejandro.

It was Joaquín Salgado.

She froze. “You? What are you doing here?”

Salgado smiled. “You’ve been asking questions. Looking into Alejandro. Into Walter. That’s dangerous.”

Elena took a step back. “You sent the message?”

“No. But I intercepted it. Which means someone else knows your connection to Alejandro… and they’re playing a bigger game than either of you realize.”

She narrowed her eyes. “What do you mean?”

Salgado stepped closer. “Your little love triangle? That’s nothing. This is about empires. Bloodlines. Alejandro’s not who you think he is.”

Elena’s breath caught. “What do you know about him?”

Before Salgado could answer, a distant gunshot rang out—then another.

Salgado grabbed Elena’s arm. “We’re out of time. They’re coming.”

She tried to pull away. “Who’s coming?”

He looked at her with genuine fear. “The people who don’t want Alejandro to claim what’s rightfully his.”

Meanwhile, across town, Alejandro stood in front of a massive iron gate.

A hidden estate. The one place he swore never to return to. The place he had left years ago wishing he could forget about, but then here he was, just standing there not knowing what to do.

Beyond it lay the truth. His bloodline. His enemies. His stepmother’s legacy.

And the real war.

He lifted his phone and called Carlos.

“Activate the plan,” he said. “It’s time they remember who I really am.”