The silence in the De Cruze mansion was louder than any explosion.
Mario stood in the center of the library, staring at the empty chair where Desderia usually sat. Her laptop was gone. Her phone was off. And the GPS tracker he had secretly sewn into her bag had been found blinking in a trash can three blocks from the University.
"Boss," Carter said, his voice tight. He was covered in sweat, having just returned from a high-speed sweep of the campus. "Witnesses saw a silver Mercedes. It's registered to a shell company. One of Martin's."
The air in the room seemed to freeze. Mario didn't yell. He didn't break anything. He simply reached into his desk and pulled out a heavy, matte-black case. Inside were the "untraceable" weapons—the ones he kept for the days when the law and the treaties no longer mattered.
"Mario, wait," Carter stepped in his path. "If you hit Martin, you're hitting the Sanchez heir. Lorenzo will turn the entire Red Blood against us. We aren't ready for a full-scale war with your biological father."
Mario looked up, and for the first time, Carter saw a man who had completely let go of his humanity. "I am not his son. I am the man who is going to burn his legacy to the ground if he doesn't give her back."
He checked the magazine of his pistol with a lethal click. "Call the crews. I want every Sanchez warehouse, every club, and every dock hit simultaneously. Tell them the Ghost isn't asking for peace anymore. I want Martin's head on my desk by midnight."
"And Desderia?"
"Find her," Mario whispered. "Or don't bother coming back."
Desderia woke up to the sound of dripping water and the smell of old oil.
Her head throbbed, a dull roar behind her eyes from the chloroform. She tried to move her hands, but they were bound tightly to a cold metal pipe behind her back. She was in a basement—unfinished, damp, and lit by a single, flickering bulb.
"Ah, the scholar is awake," a voice drawled from the shadows.
Martin Sanchez stepped into the light. He had discarded his suit jacket, his white sleeves rolled up to reveal expensive watches and the arrogance of a man who had never been told no.
"You're making a mistake, Martin," Desderia croaked, her throat raw. "Mario... he'll find you."
"Mario is busy," Martin said, pulling up a wooden chair and sitting backward on it, grinning. "He's currently blowing up half of our father's infrastructure. He's proving exactly what I told the Council: he's an unstable animal. A liability."
He leaned in, his eyes cold. "But you... you're the interesting part. You have a file on that USB drive that belongs to me. A signature you weren't supposed to see."
"The order to burn St. Jude's," Desderia said, her voice gaining strength. "You killed those kids. You tried to kill your own brother when he was eight years old. You're a coward, Martin. You couldn't handle the competition even then."
Martin's smile vanished. He lunged forward, his hand snapping out to grip her jaw so hard she winced. "I did what was necessary! Pablo was my favorite. The 'golden boy.' Even at six, he was smarter, faster, better. My father looked at him and saw a king. He looked at me and saw a shadow."
He tightened his grip. "So I turned him into smoke. Or I thought I did. Now, I'm going to finish the job. But first, I'm going to make sure he knows it was you who led me to him."
"He'll never believe you."
"He'll believe the blood," Martin whispered.
He pulled out a phone and hit a button. A video feed flickered to life. It showed Mario, covered in blood, standing over a pile of Sanchez soldiers at a shipping yard. He looked like a demon.
"Look at him," Martin laughed. "He's losing his mind. And while he's distracted, I've sent a 'peace offering' to our father. I've told Lorenzo that Mario kidnapped you to use as leverage against the family. By tonight, the Red Blood will be hunting their 'Prodigal Son' like a dog."
Desderia felt a wave of nausea, but it wasn't just from the fear. Her stomach cramped sharply—a familiar, morning-sickness tug she had been trying to ignore for a week.
Not now, she pleaded silently. Not here.
"What's the matter, Desderia?" Martin mocked, noticing her sudden paleness. "Feeling the weight of your choices?"
"I'm feeling the weight of yours," she spat. "You think you're a king? You're just a scavenger. You're terrified of him."
Martin stood up, his face flushed with rage. He raised his hand to strike her, but the door at the top of the stairs burst open.
"Martin! Stop!"
Secilia stood in the doorway, her chest heaving. She looked from Desderia to her brother, her eyes wide with horror.
"Father is calling for you," Secilia lied, her voice trembling. "He found out about the warehouse hit. He's furious. You need to get to the Estate now."
Martin hesitated, looking back at Desderia with a promise of violence in his eyes. "Keep her quiet. If she moves, kill her," he told the guard at the door.
He stormed past Secilia. As soon as his footsteps faded, Secilia rushed down the stairs. She didn't have a key, but she had a heavy set of bolt cutters.
"He's going to kill you both," Secilia whispered as she struggled with the chains. "Mario is burning everything, Desderia. He's falling right into Martin's trap. You have to stop him."
"I can't," Desderia gasped as the chains fell away. She slumped forward, her body trembling. "Secilia... I think... I think I'm pregnant."
Secilia froze, the bolt cutters clattering to the floor. She looked at Desderia's stomach, then back at her face. The irony was a physical blow: the Sanchez bloodline, which they were all trying to destroy, was already continuing inside the girl they were trying to kill.
"Then you really have to run," Secilia said, her voice filled with a sudden, fierce protectiveness. "Because if my father finds out there's a grandchild... he'll never let you go. He'll lock you in a cage and turn that baby into another monster."
Secilia pulled a small pistol from her waistband and pressed it into Desderia's hand.
"Go through the vents. There's a delivery van waiting in the alley. The driver is loyal to me. Tell him to take you to the old cathedral on the 4th."
"What about Mario?"
"I'll find him," Secilia promised. "Now go!"
The rain had turned into a torrential downpour. Mario stood at the altar of the ruined church, his breathing ragged. He was alone. Carter was outside, holding off the Sanchez enforcers who had finally tracked them down.
He heard the heavy wooden doors creak open. He raised his weapon, his finger tightening on the trigger.
A small, shivering figure stepped into the light of the votive candles.
"Mario?"
The gun dropped from his hand. He sprinted down the aisle, catching Desderia just as her legs gave out. He pulled her into his arms, crushing her against his chest, his tears mixing with the rain on her face.
"I thought I lost you," he choked out. "I was going to kill them all. I was going to burn the whole world."
"I'm here," she sobbed, clutching his jacket. "Mario, listen to me. We have to leave. Not just the city. Everything. Martin knows about the locket, he knows about the fire... and he knows I have the proof."
Mario pulled back, his eyes searching hers. "Proof of what?"
"He did it," she whispered. "Martin set the fire. He tried to kill you."
Mario's face went through a terrifying transformation—from relief to a cold, crystalline fury that surpassed anything he had felt before.
"He's dead," Mario whispered. "I'm going to end him."
"No!" Desderia grabbed his face, forcing him to look at her. "Mario, look at me. It's not just us anymore."
She took his hand and placed it over her stomach.
The world seemed to go silent. The sound of the rain, the distant sirens, the shouting of men outside—it all faded. Mario felt the warmth of her through the fabric of the sweater. He felt the future.
"A baby?" he breathed, his voice trembling.
"We can't be Sanchez or De Cruz anymore," Desderia said. "We have to disappear. For the baby. Please, Mario. Let the Ghost die so we can live."
Mario looked at the cross above the altar, then back at the woman who had saved his soul. He nodded slowly. "Okay. We disappear."
But as they turned to head for the back exit, the stained-glass windows shattered. A flash-bang grenade blinded them, and the voice of Lorenzo Sanchez boomed through the sanctuary.
"You aren't going anywhere, Pablo. You're coming home. Both of you."