CHAPTER SIX: THE DEVIL'S TRUST.
945 Words
The slam of a car door outside made Elena flinch. Heavy boots followed, then the unmistakable jangle of Rafael’s silver bracelet. She barely had time to swallow her panic before the safehouse door opened.
Rafael Vargas filled the doorway like a storm, dressed in a tailored navy shirt, gold chain catching the late afternoon light. His grin was charming and cruel at the same time. Mateo followed behind him, looking wary, his eyes flicking between Elena and Izzy.
“Elena,” Rafael said warmly, like an uncle arriving home with sweets. “Heard you had quite an afternoon.” His voice carried the softness of silk hiding a razor.
Her heart skipped. He knew.
She forced a steady tone. “I was just out walking.”
“Plaza Hidalgo,” he said. He didn’t ask. He stated. “Two dead, one wounded. Tourists screaming, food vendors crying. Care to explain why my new accountant was there in the middle of all that?”
Izzy’s smirk widened. “Told you she’s hiding something.”
Elena’s throat felt like sandpaper. One wrong word, and she’d be buried in a ditch before sunrise.
Rafael stepped closer. His cologne was sharp and expensive. “Relax. I’m not angry—yet. But understand me, Elena. My world runs on loyalty. If I can’t trust you, you’re useless to me. And I don’t keep useless people.”
He gestured at Mateo. “Your brother’s been busy proving his worth. Smart boy. Learns fast. You want me to believe you’re the same?”
Elena’s pulse pounded. “I… I want to help. I’m scared, that’s all.”
“Fear’s good,” Rafael said with a wolfish grin. “Means you’ll follow orders.” He reached into his pocket and dropped a folded paper on the table. “Let’s see how brave you really are.”
She unfolded it. A name and an address stared back at her. Sergio Díaz – Calle Niebla.
“Who is he?” Elena asked, voice trembling.
“Ex-supplier,” Rafael said casually. “He’s been talking to my enemies. You’re going to deliver him a message.”
Izzy chuckled darkly. “By message, he means a bullet.”
Elena’s stomach lurched. “I can’t—”
“You can,” Rafael interrupted, his eyes suddenly hard. “Or you’ll find your brother in the same grave as Sergio. Simple.”
Mateo shifted uneasily. “Rafa—maybe she’s not ready—”
Rafael’s glare cut him off cold. “Don’t make me question your loyalty too, Mateo.”
A suffocating silence filled the room. Elena’s mind reeled. She wasn’t a killer. She’d never even held a gun until yesterday. But Rafael had left no room for choice.
Izzy tossed her a pistol. “Safety’s off. Don’t miss.”
Rafael’s smile returned, a chilling contrast. “Think of it as your initiation, querida. Midnight. You’ll have company.”
Later that night…
The streets near Calle Niebla were deserted, lit by the occasional flickering lamp. Elena’s hands shook as she sat in the back of a dusty sedan, Izzy behind the wheel. Two of Rafael’s men sat in front, silent and stony-faced.
Her mind kept replaying Lucas’s words. If you want a way out, you have to play smart.
But how could she play smart with a gun in her lap and a man’s life hanging on her trigger finger?
The car stopped outside a run-down apartment building. One of the men turned. “Top floor. Door marked 3C. Do it quick.”
Izzy leaned back, her voice low. “Don’t hesitate too long, or they’ll do it for you.”
Elena climbed out, legs weak. Each step up the stairs felt like walking toward her own execution. Her finger trembled on the trigger. She reached 3C, heart hammering so loud she thought it would wake the whole building.
She knocked.
The door creaked open. A man in his forties with tired eyes peered out. “Yes?”
Her mouth went dry. This wasn’t a monster. He looked like someone’s father, someone who used to believe in a different kind of life. Behind him, she saw a photo of two kids on a shelf.
He frowned. “Do I know you?”
Elena’s chest burned. She couldn’t do it. Not this way.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
Then the hallway erupted in chaos—shouts, footsteps, glass breaking. Someone barreled up the stairs, gun drawn. Lucas.
“Elena, down!” he shouted.
Sergio ducked as a bullet whizzed past the doorframe. Rafael’s men were charging up behind her, weapons ready.
Lucas fired first. One of Rafael’s men fell, clutching his side. The other turned and fled. Izzy’s voice echoed from the stairwell: “Elena! What the hell are you doing?!”
Lucas grabbed her wrist, yanking her toward the fire escape. “You want out? This is your only shot.”
They tumbled down the metal stairs two at a time, Sergio scrambling after them. Gunfire cracked in the night. Elena’s heart felt like it would explode.
They reached the alley. Lucas shoved Sergio behind a dumpster. “Stay there until I come back for you,” he barked. Then to Elena: “You just made your choice. There’s no going back.”
Izzy’s furious voice carried from above. “She’s gone rogue, Rafa’s gonna gut her!”
Lucas pulled Elena toward a waiting motorcycle. “Hold on,” he said.
She climbed on behind him as the roar of engines filled the alley. Behind them, Izzy appeared at the fire escape, gun raised. Elena swore she saw hurt in her eyes before the darkness swallowed her.
- Writer
