Marked by the Thorne Legacy

Chapter Two : Code Black

Julian’s ears picked up the distant, muffled c***k-c***k-c***k even through the soundproofing — barely there, but enough. His communications unit lit up before he even reached for it.

“CODE BLACK. Armed disturbance. Inside the club.” The system reverberated as the emergency alarm blared rather loudly through the speakers.

Julian turned sharply toward Alejandro. The man’s fists clenched at his sides, jaw set like stone. No outward panic, just a glint in his eye. A tell. Julian caught it. The man had seen hundreds of this in lifetime and knew better than to panic, but his look sold him off. There was something he was worried about.

“What is it?”

Alejandro didn’t blink. “My niece. Catalina. She’s upstairs with friends.”

Julian’s expression didn’t change, but the air shifted.

“She wasn’t supposed to be here,” Alejandro continued, voice clipped, controlled. “Her mother will expect her safe. Untouched.”

Julian reached for his comms system. “Second floor. VIP lounge. Group of girls. One of them is Catalina—priority retrieval. Do it clean. Bring her to the southern exit, just by the tunnel. Full discretion.”

Julian didn’t wait for a reply before hanging up. Rather, he dashed towards Alejandro after pulling out two weapons from his safe. A pistol and knife.

To Alejandro: “You guarded?”

“Always.” Alejandro grinned and gritted his teeth while emptying a cup of whisky down his throat.

“We move then. You take point with me. She’ll be routed through the tunnels and meet us there.”

Alejandro nodded once, tight, and professional. No argument. Just mission focus.

Julian pushed open the hidden wall behind the liquor rack, the reinforced door hissing as it revealed the private escape tunnel. Red-lit. Silent. Secure.

The red-lit tunnel swallowed them whole, the door sealing with a hiss behind Julian and Alejandro. No hesitation, no wasted breath — the air down there was thick with smoke memory, long-lost secrets, and power.

Julian tapped his comm again. “Status?”

“Target sighted by a waitress 20 minutes ago. Lounge level. She’s with two other girls. But her location seems to have changed. Crowd’s panicked. Extraction team en-route. ”

Julian didn’t react outwardly, but a flicker of something—concern or calculation—passed behind his eyes.

“She’s family,” Alejandro added. “We can’t leave her.”

“I’m not asking you to,” Julian replied, already tapping his comm. “Salvador, you locate the girl. VIP level. Extract her quietly. Bring her to the tunnel.”

A beat. “Alive, Salvador. No mistakes.”

“Understood,” came Antonio’s steady reply. “We’re already heading that way.”

Julian continued without missing a beat. “Check every room, Salvador. She’s not just some girl.”

“She’s Alejandro’s niece,” Antonio finished. “Got it.”

Julian switched lines. “Security grid’s compromised. I want every guest out—discreetly. No phones, no videos, no noise. Offer free champagne or say it’s a fire drill if you have to. I want this handled clean.”

“We’re sweeping now,” Antonio confirmed.

“Protect them,” Julian added, stepping out as the elevator doors opened. “They came here under my name.”

Alejandro followed, silent now, his jaw hard. The old man might’ve lost his edge in speed—but not in loyalty.

Julian glanced at him. “We’ll meet them in the tunnel. If anything goes wrong... we adapt.”

Alejandro gave a tight nod. “It won’t.”

********************

Catalina’s POV

The bass throbbed loudly in her head and vibrated through the marble floor of the VIP balcony at the lounge. Catalina laughed too loud, too tipsy—as her friend Valentina poured more champagne into their glasses. The DJ had just dropped a remix she loved, something dark and pulsing, and for a moment, everything around her blurred into light and sound.

Then something shifted.

The rhythm broke.

The music didn’t stop—but there was a ripple in the atmosphere. A flicker of unease. Catalina felt it in her chest before she even knew what it was.

Not bass.

Not fireworks.

Gunfire.

The sound of bullets whizzed through the corridor, lighting it up sporadically. From the corner of her eye, she saw men—masked, armed—flood the upper deck like shadows come alive.

The deafening sound of her wine glass shattering against the floor startled her friends even more.

Valentina screamed. Rachael clutched her chest.

“She’s having an attack—her inhaler!” Catalina shouted, scrambling through the table littered with drinks. She yanked her purse open, her fingers trembling as she fished out the blue canister and shoved it into Rachael’s mouth.

One, two pumps. Rachael gasped in wet, shallow breaths, her eyes red and wide with fear.

“We need to move. Now.” Catalina yanked at both arms.

“Hide—over there!”

She pointed toward the DJ booth. The entire room had erupted into panic. The DJ had already vanished through the back stairwell. Bodies were scrambling, tripping over chairs, heels, and each other. Glass shattered in every direction.

The strobe lights spun boldly as if mocking the chaos.

“Go! Behind the booth!”

They ducked low, crawling along the wall until they reached the raised platform.

She could hear loud voices. One of the bouncers was yelling into his radio, his face pale. Catalina could hear shouts from downstairs. Men were barking orders—something about “targets” and “secure the exit.”

Then she saw him.

One of the masked men—a broad figure in dark tactical gear—broke off from the others and strode directly toward them. His eyes were locked on her.

“No—no, no—” Catalina whispered, backing up against the sound system. “Don’t move. Don’t speak,” she told the girls, squeezing their hands.

But it was too late.

The man lunged. She tried to kick him, hit him, but he caught her arm with brutal precision and yanked her away from the other girls. Rachael screamed hoarsely, clutching Valentina, who was frozen in place.

“Let me go! What are you doing?! Let me go!” Catalina shrieked, her fists flailing, heels kicking—but it was useless. The man threw her over his shoulder like a ragdoll, ignoring her struggle, and turned back into the hallway.

“CATALINA!”

Her name echoed from behind as her friends cried out, but the sound drowned beneath the renewed chaos, the music still stupidly blaring, and the floor beneath her shaking with every step of her captor.

She kicked harder. Bit his shoulder. Screamed like hell.

But no one came.

And the masked man didn’t even flinch.

*****************

Julian was flanked by three armed men as they moved swiftly through the hidden tunnel leading to the underground parking lot.

His father had built this escape route years ago—for nights like this. It had been used more than once in Carlos Thorne’s lifetime. Now, it was Julian’s turn.

The facial recognition sensor made a beeping noise as it scanned Julian’s face and blinked green, while the reinforced door hissed open. Julian stepped through.

Alejandro, at his side, tapped his comm device. “Status?”

“Girl retrieved. Heading to basement. Attackers neutralized, the rest have fled. Guests are being ushered out discreetly by our crew,” Antonio reported.

“Police?”

“Negative. Still under wraps. Captain Hernández has eyes on everything. No press, no leaks,” came Mario’s voice—headhunter of the Thorne cartel, second only to Salvador, the grand commander.

“Good. Rendezvous at Cave 9 in ten.” Julian’s tone was sharp.

Cave 9 was the code for the secured basement access point that connected to the Thorne family’s inner circle escape tunnel. Only his father, mother, sister, and Julian himself were registered on the facial recognition sensor

“Copy that,” Mario replied, then turned to his men. “Let’s move.”

Marco, the towering new enforcer, carried Catalina over his shoulder as they climbed the back stairs. She throbbed her elbows against him non-stop like a feisty cat rambling in a cage.

“Put me down! Do you know who my uncle is? I’m Alejandro’s niece!! Put me down!” Catalina shouted, punching Marco’s back as her heels knocked against his plate.

“This one’s got grit and fire,” one of the guards laughed.

“Viscera blood,” Marco muttered. “You can smell Alejandro’s guts all over her.”

“Please—my friends! They’re still up there,” she cried. “I brought them. I can’t leave them behind!”

Her phone buzzed nonstop in her back pocket. She knew that ringtone. It was Rachael.

“They’re safe, Miss Feisty,” Marco reassured. “Our men are evacuating them. No one will be left behind. Signore’s orders.”

The words gave her a flicker of relief. She believed him, believed her uncle would never abandon them. He had never failed to protect her.

Two black Jeeps waited at the tunnel’s mouth. Bulletproof, tinted—standard protocol.

Julian stepped inside the first jeep and glanced at his phone. Over a hundred missed calls, mostly from his mother. She must’ve heard.

“You go with Catalina,” Alejandro told him firmly. “I’ll do a site sweep and cleanup with the rest of the men to put everything in order.”

Julian nodded once. Loyalty. Discipline. Unrelenting resolve. His father had trusted Alejandro with the deepest layers of their empire—and for good reason.

“There they are,” Alejandro said, spotting the incoming team. Four men approached, Marco in the lead with Catalina still hoisted like a sack of diamonds. Julian recognized them all by name. He made it a point to know birthdays, families. That’s how you earned loyalty.

“Put me down!” Catalina screamed again—until she spotted Alejandro.

“Uncle!”

Marco set her down, and she stumbled, pearls falling off her glittering dress, her makeup smeared and streaked with fear and tears.

“I was so scared—there were guns everywhere and—”

“You’re safe now,” Alejandro said, brushing her hair back. He kissed her forehead. “You’ll go with Julian. He’ll take care of you.”

“Uncle, I—”

“Get in,” Antonio ordered from the driver’s seat.

She climbed in and glanced at the man beside her. Julian. She’d seen his photos, heard Alejandro speak about him like he was royalty wrapped in shadow. In person, he looked like he was power made flesh.

The car pulled away. They took the first curve around the entrance—then Catalina turned sharply, sticking her head out of the window.

“My friends—”

“You shouldn’t be doing that,” Julian warned, yanking her back in.

Too late.

A sharp c***k split the air. A bullet whizzed past the window and struck through the mid lowered glass of the vehicle.

Time blurred.

Julian lunged. One arm wrapped around her, the other thrown wide. The bullet grazed his shoulder.

Blood splattered the seat.

“Oh my goodness!!! Julian!!!!!” she gasped, eyes wide with horror.

But he didn’t flinch. He just pressed her head down and muttered through clenched teeth, “Drive.”

Antonio did.

And this time, he didn’t look back.

The backseat was soaked in blood. Catalina pressed her hand hard against his shoulder, trying to stem the bleeding. Her palm was slick and warm with it. He groaned, half-conscious, his head lolling toward the window as the car sped down the dark expressway.

“Driver,” she barked from the backseat. “Faster. He’s losing too much blood.”

Her vision blurred few seconds later as Antonio swerved towards the traffic light. The scent of iron was suffocating. The blood—everywhere. She couldn’t breathe. Her stomach churned, her head spun.

“I—I can’t…” she whispered

The last thing Catalina saw was the streetlights streaking across the windows as her body swayed and darkness folded over her like a wave.

She fainted on Julian’s thigh.