BLOOD AND ASHES

A DEAL WITH THE DEVIL

Tobias’s chest still heaved as if his ribs were trying to burst open. Delgado’s words had struck him like bullets, each one cutting deeper than the last. Elena. Wealth. Secrets. It was madness. And yet, the senator’s smirk told him it wasn’t a bluff.

For a long moment Tobias could only stare, his throat was dry, his thoughts crashing into each other like waves. The man sitting opposite him wasn’t just a corrupt politician or a cruel tormentor. He was something far worse — the keeper of truths Tobias had never known existed.

He finally found his voice, broken and hoarse.

“I presume you want access to this seemingly enormous wealth.”

Delgado’s smirk widened, his eyes glinting like blades under the dim light.

“Yes. That is what I want. And you, viejo amigo, are going to help me get access to it.”

Tobias frowned, confusion sharpening his features. “I… I don’t understand.”

Delgado shook his head slowly, almost pityingly. “Now I don’t know, Tobias. I find it very hard to believe that you — of all people — didn’t know about this wealth that belongs to you. But here is what matters: if you help me gain access to it, I promise you half. Imagine that — billions for you, enough to change the entire course of your pathetic existence.”

Tobias’s stomach twisted. Half? He didn’t care about wealth. He cared about Ethan. He cared about Elena, even if she was gone. Yet Delgado spoke as if money was the only god worth kneeling to.

The senator leaned back with a predator’s ease. “But to reach it, you must get in touch with a man in Villa Dorada."

Villa Dorada sat many miles north of Ciudad de Sanvelis — an old, sun-bleached town of cobbled plazas, faded colonial facades, and low, golden hills on the horizon.

As a former gangster he knew that Villa Dorada was a city made up of quiet streets that hid old money and older secrets; its polite calm masks were networks of power that never sleep.

"His name is Don Esteban Dorada. Does the name sound familiar?”

Tobias’s eyes narrowed, his jaw was stiff. “No. I know nothing of this man.”

Delgado’s smile was sharp enough to cut. “Your wife knew about him. And he may know about you too.”

The mention of Elena clawed at Tobias’s heart. He slammed his fist against the armrest. “Stop dragging her name into this!”

But Delgado ignored the outburst, his tone dropping to something colder. “You must meet him and get me a particular key he carries — the one he wears around his neck.”

Tobias blinked in disbelief. “You want me to steal it?”

“Yes.” Delgado’s voice was calm, almost casual. “Because you are a thug, Tobias. A man with talents. You were once feared. A man of shadows. Don’t pretend you’ve forgotten. That is why you are perfect for this job.”

Tobias’s chest rose and fell, fury mixing with dread. “Why a key? Is this the key to the so-called wealth you speak of?”

Delgado’s smirk froze into a wall of silence. “You don’t need to know where the wealth is. You don’t need to know how it is kept. Just get me the key. If you don’t…” His voice hardened, venom dripping with every syllable. “…your son will die within eight days. His oxygen will run out. And you, Tobias, will never see a single coin of what belongs to you. Because you will never know where to look, or how to claim it.”

The words landed like a blade against Tobias’s neck. Eight days. Ethan’s fragile breath echoed in his mind, each inhale and exhale was suddenly precious and terrifying.

Tobias lifted his gaze, trembling with rage. “How did you get to know all this?”

Delgado leaned forward, his smile was dark, almost triumphant. “I gathered clues. Records. Whispers. And then I did what I do best — I pressed people until they bled truth. Elena knew, Tobias. She carried the secret. She carried it for years.”

Tobias’s eyes widened. His chest clenched. “You… you’re saying—”

“I pressed her,” Delgado interrupted, his tone almost gleeful. “And she confessed. Piece by piece. I pieced it together until it all made sense. But that was before I got rid of her.”

The world stopped.

Tobias shot to his feet, a roar tearing from his throat. He lunged across the table, his fist raised, ready to crash into Delgado’s perfect smile. But before he could strike, one of the massive bodyguards shifted forward, his bulk blotting out the light, fists like anvils ready to crush.

“Don’t,” Delgado said smoothly, lifting one finger again, the same mocking gesture as before.

His voice was silk over iron. “Don’t forget, Tobias — I am the reason your son is still alive. Who do you think paid for the last refill of his oxygen? Me. Without me, he would already be in the grave beside your wife.”

Tobias froze, his fist shaking in midair.

Delgado’s grin widened. “But I promise you, such generosity will never happen again unless you do what I ask. Get me that key from Don Esteban Dorada. Save your son. Or bury him.”

The silence was suffocating. Tobias’s breath came in ragged pulls, his entire body was trembling with helpless fury.

Delgado rose with elegance, pulling a bundle of crisp bills from his jacket. He dropped them on Tobias’s desk with a sharp slap. “Three thousand dollars. For your troubles. A taste of what is coming. Consider it an advance — and a reminder.”

Tobias’s eyes burned as he glared at the money. Blood money. Poison wrapped in paper.

Delgado buttoned his jacket, his voice was steady as he moved toward the door. “You have eight days, viejo amigo. Eight days to save your boy.”

At the threshold, he paused and turned, his smirk curling into something monstrous. “You thought you got the better of me once. But look at us now. I hold the strings. I always hold the advantage.”

The sly smile lingered as he slipped out of the office, his bodyguards flanking him like shadows.

Tobias’s chest heaved, his fists turned raw from clenching. He couldn’t sit still. He couldn’t breathe. He stormed toward the hall, desperate to see Ethan, desperate to remind himself why he must endure this nightmare.

Outside, the convoy waited — three sleek black vehicles humming like predators ready to pounce. Through the glass doors, Tobias caught a glimpse of Delgado sliding into the back seat of one car, his face was still twisted into that victorious smirk.

“Daddy!”

Tobias turned sharply. Ethan came hurrying toward him, tugging his oxygen tank along, his little arms weighed down by bags of expensive snacks and toys. His cheeks flushed with innocent joy.

“Daddy, look at what they bought for me!” Ethan’s eyes sparkled, oblivious to the storm raging around him.

Tobias forced a smile, his throat was tight. He knelt, resting a hand on his son’s fragile shoulder. Ethan’s happiness should have lifted him — but instead it carved deeper into his heart.

Because behind the smile, Tobias could not tell whether the path ahead had just taken a brighter turn… or whether it had plunged into the darkest and most dangerous turn of all.

Tobias pulled Ethan close, the boy’s laughter was sweet against his ear, yet every sound felt like a countdown.

Love pressed against despair, crushing his chest.

Eight days.

A stolen key.

His son’s fragile life balanced on Delgado’s terms. Tobias’s smile trembled—choice or ruin, both promised blood.