The heavy, broken sobbing of a four-year-old boy finally echoed into silence, replaced only by the rhythmic, shallow gasps of a child utterly exhausted by his own grief. Valeria remained kneeling on the cold marble floor for over twenty minutes, her knees aching, her bruised ribs throbbing beneath her oversized uniform, yet she refused to move an inch. She simply rested her chin against Mateo’s soft, unwashed black hair, her hand gently tracing circles along his small, tense spine.

Valeria heard the heavy iron doors of the library click open. Thinking it was Alejandro, she turned around with a sigh of relief.

"Alejandro, the power grid is—"

The words died in her throat. Two massive mercenaries stepped into the room, their faces covered in black balaclavas, heavy assault rifles raised. Behind them stood Scorpion, holding a bleeding shoulder, a cruel grin twisting his face.

"Well, well," Scorpion chuckled, stepping closer. "The little cleaning maid who thought she could tame a cartel boss. Pack your bags, sweetheart. You're coming with us."

Valeria backed away slowly until her spine hit the mahogany bookshelves. Her mind raced. She didn't have her iron crowbar this time. She had only a heavy crystal paperweight on the desk.

"You're making a mistake," Valeria said, her voice shaking slightly, though her eyes remained defiant. "The federal police are monitoring this estate. You won't make it past the gates."

"The federal police are currently answering a diversion bomb we planted at the downtown precinct," Scorpion laughed, raising his hand to grab her arm. "Move!"

Before his fingers could touch her, a sharp, piercing sound echoed from the dark hallway outside.