The warehouse came into view at the end of the dirt road, sitting low and wide against the ft stretch of nd.

  The dark metal gate surrounding the warehouse was shut tight, thick chains looped through it. No lights on outside. No movement visible from where we were.

  Behind me, the convoy rolled to a stop one by one. Engines idled, headlights cutting through the growing dark.

  My pulse picked up, but my mind felt clear.

  "Dispérsense," (scatter) I said into the radio clipped to my vest. "No creo que podamos pasar puerta." (I don't think we can enter the gate through car)

  The trucks began moving immediately, splitting off and circling wide. Gravel crunched under heavy tires as they positioned themselves around the perimeter, forming a loose square around the building to block any exits.

  No one in.

  No one out.

  I opened the truck door and stepped down onto the dirt. The air smelled like oil and dust. My guard stepped out on the other side, already alert, scanning the roofline and windows.

  I reached into the back seat and grabbed my rifle, checking it out of habit even though I'd already done so twice on the way here.

  The weight of the vest against my chest was grounding. Familiar.

  We moved toward the gate on foot, boots crunching lightly against the gravel.

  Every sense felt sharpened.

  Too quiet.

  Warehouses like this never felt empty — not when they were being used. There should've been noise. A guard. A flicker of light through a crack.

  I stopped a few feet from the chained gate and scanned the upper windows again.

  "Thermals?" I asked without looking back.

  "Reading heat signatures inside," my guard replied quietly after gncing at her device. "Multiple."

  My jaw tightened.

  So they were ready.

  I exhaled slowly through my nose, adjusting my grip.

  This wasn't going to be clean.

  But it didn't have to be.

  It just had to be fast.

  I stepped closer to the gate, eyes locked on the dark structure beyond it, and signaled for the breach team to move into position.

  Four of my girls moved up quickly, focused and efficient, carrying the breach gear like they'd done it a hundred times before.

  One of them crouched near the base of the gate, shining a fshlight along the chains to check the pcement.

  Another pulled a compact charge from her pack and secured it low against the metal where it would do the most damage.

  "Retrocede, va a explotar," (back up, it's gonna explode) she called out.

  We stepped back immediately, boots scraping over gravel as we cleared the bst radius. I raised an arm slightly to shield my face, turning my head away.

  "Una... dos... tres."

  She hit the detonator.

  The explosion tore through the quiet night, a sharp, violent crack that rattled my ears. The chain snapped and the gate blew inward, metal twisting and smming against the ground in a cloud of dust and sparks.

  "?Adentro!" (Inside!) someone shouted.

  We moved fast, not blindly but not cautiously either—controlled aggression.

  Rifles up, eyes scanning. The interior of the warehouse was dim, lit only by scattered industrial lights hanging high above.

  Crates. Shipping containers. Machinery pushed to the sides.

  Shadows everywhere.

  We split instinctively, clearing angles as we advanced. Some took left, some right. I moved down the center aisle with my guard close behind me.

  Every step echoed.

  We stopped near a rge shipping container positioned in front of the warehouse. It looked recently moved—scrape marks on the concrete beneath it.

  "This might be a holding point," one of my girls whispered.

  I nodded, crouching slightly as we quickly revised positioning.

  Then—

  Gunfire erupted from the warehouse.

  Rounds cracked through the air, bullets smming into metal and sending sparks flying off the container beside us.

  "Contacto al fondo!" (Contact in the back!) someone yelled.

  We dropped immediately, taking cover behind the container as more shots rang out. The sound was deafening inside the enclosed space, echoing off steel walls.

  "Left fnk, suppress!" I ordered, leaning out just enough to return fire in controlled bursts.

  Muzzle fshes kept cutting through the dark in violent bursts, briefly illuminating the steel beams overhead and the dust hanging in the air.

  I fired toward the fshes until they stopped appearing in that section of the warehouse. The noise was overwhelming—metal ringing, boots scraping, shouts overpping in Spanish.

  My team held their positions, returning fire from cover, advancing a few feet at a time whenever there was an opening.

  In the middle of it all, my mind kept fshing back to one thing.

  Miguel.

  Concrete walls. Harsh light. That image burned into my memory.

  "Please be safe..." I whispered under my breath as I swapped magazines, hands moving automatically from repetition and training.

  "Vamos, lleguemos a entrada, cubriré el fuego por ti," my lieutenant shouted over the chaos. (Lets go, we'll get to the entrance, I'll cover fire for you)

  I gnced at the guard beside me. She gave a quick nod.

  This was the opening.

  We moved low and fast, using the stacked crates as cover while the rest of my team created enough pressure to keep the defenders pinned.

  The sound inside the warehouse felt like it was tearing the air apart, but little by little, we gained ground.

  The entrance to the warehouse came into view—a reinforced metal door slightly ajar.

  If they were guarding this hard...

  He was close.

  My heart pounded, but my focus narrowed.

  "Push forward!" I ordered.

  Not for territory.

  Not for revenge.

  For him.

  At st we reached the reinforced door at the back of the warehouse. The gunfire had thinned out behind us, fading into scattered echoes instead of the constant storm it had been minutes ago.

  The sudden drop in noise almost felt more unsettling than the fighting itself.

  I lifted a hand slightly, signaling a halt.

  No shots were coming our way anymore, but that didn't mean the building was clear. It could mean they'd retreated. It could mean they were regrouping. Or it could mean they were waiting.

  My chest rose and fell steadily, but my pulse was still high from the push forward. Around us, my soldiers repositioned, covering angles, checking sightlines, communicating in short, controlled exchanges.

  "Go on," my guard said to my lieutenant, her voice calm but firm. "I'll stay here and cover in case they try to circle back."

  My lieutenant nodded, adjusting her stance near the door. We were seconds away from moving in.

  "Let me in as well."

  The voice came from slightly behind us, clear enough to cut through the tension.

  I turned immediately.

  For a split second I thought my mind was pying tricks on me.

  Le stood there, fully armored, rifle slung properly across her chest, helmet secured, posture steady.

  There was nothing hesitant about the way she held herself. She looked like she had every right to be standing there.

  "Christ, Le," I said, genuinely caught off guard. "How did you even get here?"

  I hadn't seen her cross the line of fire towards the warehouse door, I surely would have noticed. I always noticed.

  She gave a small, unapologetic shrug. "I'm the leader of your grupo sombra for a reason."

  There was no humor in her expression, though. Just resolve.

  For a moment, a fsh of memory hit me—Le unconscious on the floor when they took Miguel. The guilt I'd carried about that. The fact that she'd been caught in it too.

  "You should be recovering," I said, studying her carefully. "You took a hit."

  "I'm fine," she replied, her tone steady. "And this is my fight too."

  There wasn't bravado in it. Just quiet determination.

  I exhaled slowly, weighing the decision. Every additional person going through that door increased risk. But it also increased strength. And I knew better than to sideline someone who had already proven loyalty.

  The warehouse felt eerily still around us now.

  Dust floated through shafts of light from broken fixtures overhead. Somewhere deeper inside, a door cnged faintly, metal against metal.

  We didn't have time for a prolonged debate.

  I gave a short nod.

  "Stay tight. No reckless moves. We go in controlled."

  Le inclined her head once in understanding and stepped into position beside us.

  I looked back at my girls fighting, hand settling on the door firmly.

  If Miguel was here, this was the moment everything shifted.

  I drew in a slow breath, steadying myself, then signaled to advance.

  And we moved.

  I stepped through first, rifle raised, eyes adjusting to the dim light inside.

  The lower level of the warehouse felt strangely hollow. Wide open floor space. Scattered crates pushed against the walls. A few overturned chairs near what looked like a makeshift workstation. No immediate movement.

  Too quiet.

  The kind of quiet that makes your shoulders tense because it feels staged.

  I moved slowly, sweeping my line of sight across corners, behind stacked pallets, toward the shadowed edges near the stairwell. My breathing sounded louder in my own ears than I liked.

  For a few seconds, nothing.

  Then I heard it.

  A quick scuff of a boot against concrete from the right.

  A woman stepped out from behind a support column, pistol already raised.

  I shifted instinctively—

  But before I even squeezed the trigger, Le fired.

  The shot cracked through the open space. The woman dropped instantly, her weapon cttering across the floor and skidding several feet away.

  Silence fell again, heavier than before.

  I looked over at Le. She lowered her weapon slightly, eyes still scanning for additional threats, calm and composed like she hadn't just reacted in a split second.

  "You're getting faster," I said quietly.

  She didn't smile, but there was a faint glint of satisfaction in her expression. "Couldn't let her get close to my boss."

  It felt right having her there. Steady. Reliable. After everything that had happened, standing shoulder to shoulder again felt grounding in a way I hadn't expected.

  I turned back toward the interior of the warehouse.

  At the far end of the warehouse stood a heavy reinforced door, guarding a small room. The door looked thicker than the others. Industrial. The kind meant to contain something.

  We approached carefully, steps measured.

  I expected resistance.

  Expected it to be locked.

  Expected another fight waiting on the other side.

  But when I reached it and pced my hand against the handle, it gave with almost no effort.

  Already open.

  I paused, exchanging a brief look with Le.

  That wasn't a good sign.

  Either they fled in a hurry.

  Or they wanted us to walk in.

  I tightened my grip on my rifle and pushed the door wider, preparing for whatever was waiting beyond it.

  Beyond the heavy door, there was... nothing.

  No holding cell. No guards. No sign of anyone being kept there.

  Just a pin room with a brown patterned rug spread across the floor like it belonged in an office building instead of an industrial warehouse. The walls were bare. No furniture. No equipment.

  Empty.

  For a second I just stood there, staring.

  "Fucking Christ... a dead end," I snapped, frustration finally breaking through the control I'd been holding onto. I drove my fist into the steel wall beside the door. The impact stung, but I barely registered it.

  All this force. All this noise. And nothing.

  Outside, the gunfire had stopped completely. The warehouse felt unnaturally quiet now, like the fight had been sucked out of it all at once.

  I lifted my radio.

  "?Alguien herido?" (Anyone hurt?) I asked, forcing my voice back into something steady.

  A crackle of static answered before someone responded. "Solo una. No está muerta ni nada, solo una herida en pierna." (Just one, she's not dead or anything, just a bullet wound on her leg)

  One injured. Alive.

  Relief mixed with irritation. We'd come in heavy, and still they'd managed to slow us down for nothing.

  "Necesito veinte de ustedes aquí por si acaso," (I need twenty of you in here just in case) I continued. "El resto quédense afuera." (Rest of you stay outside)

  Within moments, boots thundered across the warehouse floor as the additional soldiers moved inside. They took positions quickly, covering entrances and scanning upper walkways.

  I stepped back out of the empty room, my mind racing.

  It didn't make sense. The tip had been recent. The image we intercepted wasn't old. They wouldn't abandon a holding site that quickly unless—

  Unless they were warned.

  "Cuida el piso de arriba," (take care of the upper floor) I ordered, gesturing toward the stairwell that led to the second level.

  They nodded and moved without hesitation, splitting into small groups and ascending cautiously.

  The warehouse creaked faintly as they climbed.

  Then a single gunshot echoed from above.

  Sharp.

  Isoted.

  Every muscle in my body tensed.

  I turned toward the stairwell instantly, pulse spiking again.

  "?Todo bien!" (Everything good!) one of them called from upstairs.

  I closed my eyes briefly and exhaled. At least no one else was down.

  "Uhhh... Ms. Juarez, you might want to see this," Le said from behind me.

  Something in her tone made me turn immediately.

  She was standing inside the empty room, the brown patterned rug folded halfway back. Beneath it, where there should've been pin concrete, was a rge square metal hatch set flush into the floor.

  A tch.

  "You're a genius, Le," I said, stepping back into the room.

  She gave a small shrug. "Too clean to be pointless."

  I crouched down and ran my hand over the metal surface. It was cold and solid, the kind meant to stay unnoticed. I gripped the tch and pulled.

  It opened with a low metallic groan.

  Underneath was a narrow staircase descending into darkness.

  The air rising from below felt cooler. Stale.

  Deep enough that the light from above barely reached past the first few steps.

  For a second, I hesitated.

  This was the real entrance.

  The decoy room had been to waste time.

  I gnced back toward the warehouse floor. "We didn't bring the drone," I muttered under my breath. Of all the times to leave it behind.

  I weighed the options for half a heartbeat longer.

  "Forget it."

  I set my rifle carefully on the floor beside the hatch—it would be too cumbersome in that tight space—and drew my pistol instead. Compact. Easier to maneuver.

  "Come in after me, Le," I said.

  She nodded once, already shifting into position.

  I started down.

  Each step creaked faintly under my weight. The metal railing was cool beneath my palm. The darkness thickened with every foot I descended, swallowing the light from above until it was just a dim glow behind us.

  The air felt heavier the farther down we went.

  My heartbeat sounded impossibly loud in my ears. Not panicked—just intense. Focused. Every sense straining.

  If he was here—

  If they'd moved him underground—

  This was it.

  The stairwell seemed to go on longer than it should have for a warehouse like this. Long enough to make you feel like you were leaving the world above behind.

  Descending into something buried.

  Something hidden.

  I tightened my grip on the pistol and kept moving downward, refusing to let hesitation slow me now.

  At st we reached the bottom of the stairs.

  The air down there felt different—heavier, unmoving. A narrow hallway stretched out in front of us, concrete walls on both sides, a line of metal doors spaced evenly along it.

  Dim industrial lights buzzed overhead, casting a harsh glow that made everything look colder than it already was.

  But my eyes locked immediately on the far end.

  A reinforced door.

  Thicker than the rest. Solid steel. No small window. No markings.

  That had to be it.

  "Watch my back, Le," I said quietly as I stepped forward, pistol steady in both hands.

  Each step echoed softly down the corridor. My pulse was loud in my ears again, but my movements stayed controlled. I passed the first door. Then the second. No sound from inside. No movement.

  Too quiet.

  When I reached the second-to-st door, it suddenly swung open.

  A woman lunged out at me without warning.

  I reacted on instinct, dodging her attack and pistol whipping her in the face, she fell down instantly, groaning, with one stomp to the head she went unconscious.

  The hallway went still again.

  I didn't waste time looking back.

  My focus was already locked on the reinforced door at the end.

  Every step toward it felt heavier than the st. Not because of fear—but because of what it might mean.

  If he wasn't behind this one...

  I didn't let myself finish that thought.

  I stopped in front of the door, close enough to see the scuff marks around the handle. Recent use. The metal wasn't dusty like the others.

  I reached for it slowly, my hand tightening around the grip.

  This was it.

  I drew in one steady breath.

  And pushed.

  The door swung open.

  For a second, my mind refused to process what I was seeing.

  A small concrete room. A single overhead light. Sparse. Bare.

  A blonde woman sat against the far wall, hands resting loosely in her p, watching us without panic. And beside her—

  Miguel.

  Sitting on the floor, back against the wall, still in his night pajamas. The pink diamond neckce resting against his colrbone caught the light faintly.

  Alive.

  Breathing.

  Real.

  Everything inside me colpsed and surged at the same time.

  I didn't look at the blonde woman. I didn't care who she was or what she had to say.

  I moved.

  My pistol lowered without me thinking about it, and I crossed the space in seconds. Miguel's eyes widened when he recognized me. For a heartbeat he looked like he wasn't sure I was real.

  Then he was on his feet.

  I wrapped my arms around him so tightly I was afraid I might hurt him. He felt thinner. Warmer than the cold room. Real in a way that grounded me instantly.

  His face pressed into my chest and I felt it—the shaking.

  "I've missed you so much," he whispered, his voice breaking.

  I nodded, but no words came out at first. My throat tightened painfully as I held him, one hand cradling the back of his head like I needed to make sure he wouldn't disappear again.

  I hadn't allowed myself to imagine this moment too clearly, in case it never came.

  Now that it was here, the relief hit so hard it almost weakened my knees.

  I felt tears slip down my own face, but I didn't care who saw.

  "You're okay," I murmured finally. "You're okay. I've got you."

  For a few seconds, the world outside that room didn't exist.

  Then Le's voice cut in from the doorway, controlled but urgent.

  "I don't want to ruin the moment, but we should move. Now."

  Reality snapped back into pce.

  Miguel pulled away just enough to look at me, eyes still glossy but alert now. He nodded quickly.

  He didn't hesitate.

  He grabbed my hand and started moving toward the door, almost dragging me with him in his urgency.

  And for the first time since this nightmare started—We were running in the same direction.

  —

  (Miguel pov)

  Freedom felt unreal.

  My hand was locked tightly around Car's as we hurried down the hallway. The air didn't feel suffocating anymore. The concrete walls didn't feel like a prison.

  Every step away from that room felt lighter, like the weight I'd been carrying for days was finally cracking apart.

  I kept gncing at her just to make sure she was actually there.

  Her grip was firm. Warm. Real.

  I'd never felt joy like that before—not loud, not explosive—just overwhelming relief flooding every part of me at once.

  Then a door along the hallway burst open.

  Time slowed in a way that didn't feel cinematic. It felt wrong. Disjointed.

  A woman stepped out.

  I recognized her from before, from when I first arrived at this prison.

  La Mencha.

  She had a pistol in her hand.

  She raised it.

  I didn't think.

  There wasn't time to think.

  My body moved before my brain did. I stepped in front of Car, turning slightly toward her as if I could shield her completely.

  A deafening crack filled the hallway.

  The impact didn't feel like I expected. It felt like being smmed backward by something invisible and violent. The air left my lungs instantly.

  The ceiling spun.

  Suddenly I was on the floor.

  There was warmth spreading beneath me, thick and fast. My ears rang. The hallway looked distorted, like I was seeing it through water.

  A second body hit the ground not far from me.

  La Mencha y there too, blood pooling beneath her.

  I couldn't tell who fired. I couldn't focus long enough to piece it together.

  My vision blurred at the edges, dark creeping inward.

  Then Car was above me.

  Her hands were on me, pressing, shaking slightly. Her face—strong, composed Car—was broken open with fear. Tears fell freely down her cheeks, nding on my face, mixing with everything else.

  She was saying something.

  I couldn't make out the words.

  Everything sounded distant.

  My chest felt heavy. Breathing took effort.

  I lifted my hand weakly, fingers brushing against her arm.

  "I love you, Car..." I managed, my voice barely there.

  Her face crumpled more at that.

  The hallway lights flickered in my vision.

  The sounds around me faded into something muffled and far away.

  And then the darkness finally closed in.

  ——

  Whoever donated the 25 dolrs I’ll post the 3rd extra chapter tomorrow! Thank you whoever donated.