The ivory card sat on the wooden counter like an unexploded bomb. Paulina’s hands shook as she dropped it back onto the surface, her eyes wide with a mixture of terror and disbelief.

We didn't go back to the Polanco mansion. Marco drove us straight to a safehouse hidden beneath an unremarkable auto-repair shop in Doctores—a gritty neighborhood far removed from the luxury of Condesa and Polanco.

Elena was already there, pacing the concrete floor like a caged panther. When she saw me covered in Santiago’s blood, her face hardened into stone.

“Is he alive?” she demanded.

“He took a bullet for me,” I sobbed, shaking uncontrollably as I looked down at my stained hands. “He’s still at the gallery. The police—they’ll arrest him, or Salgado’s men will finish the job!”

“Salgado won't get the chance,” Elena said darkly, pulling a heavy Glock from her holster and checking the magazine with clinical precision. “My son is stubborn, but he is not stupid. He knew the police would raid the gallery. That was always the trap.”

“A trap?” I wiped my tears angrily. “He got shot!”

“He bled to prove a point to the corrupt commanders inside the federal police force,” Elena explained coldly. “With Santiago in custody under heavy police guard in a secure hospital, Salgado has nowhere to hide. The politicians who backed Salgado are cutting ties tonight because they know Santiago holds all their digital backups.”