Chapter 6 - Night of the Iron Gates
Doña Socorro gasped, standing up instantly as the heavy brass handles of the nursery door rattled violently.
"What is happening?!" Valeria yelled over the roar of the security sirens.
Before Doña Socorro could answer, the heavy mahogany door was kicked off its hinges with a deafening crash.
Hector Ruiz stepped into the room, holding a silenced pistol in his right hand. His face was twisted into a mask of cold, ruthless rage. Behind him stood four armed mercenaries in unmarked tactical gear, their rifles pointed down the hallway.
"Hector!" Doña Socorro cried out. "What are you doing? Alejandro’s men—"
"Alejandro found Peralta," Hector spat, his eyes wild. "The doctor broke under interrogation twenty minutes ago. Alejandro is on his way back here with thirty guards. We don't have time!"
He turned his weapon directly toward Valeria and Mateo.
"Take the boy!" Hector ordered his mercenaries. "Kill the maid!"
"No!" Valeria screamed.
In a fraction of a second, years of surviving in the tough streets of Santa Catarina took over. Valeria didn't hesitate. She grabbed the heavy ceramic soup bowl from the floor and hurled it with all her strength directly into Hector’s face.
The hot, greasy broth struck Hector square in the eyes. He shrieked in pain, dropping his gun as he clutched his burning face.
"Run, Mateo!" Valeria grabbed the four-year-old boy in her arms, ducked under the swing of a mercenary’s rifle, and slammed her weight into the small wooden service door behind the nursery wardrobe—a narrow laundry chute access she had discovered while cleaning the night before.
She tumbled into the dark, narrow chute, holding Mateo tightly against her chest as they slid down two floors into the dark basement of the estate.
They landed hard on a pile of dirty linen bags. Valeria’s shoulder slammed into the concrete floor, sending a searing shock of pain through her arm, but she kept her hands wrapped securely around Mateo’s head, protecting him from impact.
Above them, the sound of heavy boots thundered down the basement stairs.
"Find them!" Hector’s voice echoed down the stone corridors. "They can't leave the estate! The perimeter gates are locked!"
Valeria scrambled up from the linen pile, wincing as her injured shoulder throbbed. Mateo was clinging to her neck, his small face buried in her hair, but he wasn't crying. He was quiet, trusting her completely.
"Shh," Valeria whispered in his ear. "I’ve got you, Mateo. I won't let him touch you."
She moved quietly through the subterranean tunnels beneath the mansion—routes used by the kitchen staff to haul supplies from the wine cellar. She knew these passages better than the guards; she had spent her first three days on the job sweeping their dusty floors.
She reached the heavy iron service door that led to the estate’s outer gardens near the south wall. She pushed it open, stepping out into the cold night rain.
The estate grounds were a warzone. Spotlights crisscrossed the sky, security guards loyal to Alejandro were engaging in fierce gunbattles with Hector’s mercenaries near the main gates, and the sound of heavy engines roared from the main driveway.
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A convoy of four black armored SUVs smashed through the iron perimeter gates, tires screeching against the wet gravel.
Alejandro Ríos had arrived.
