Chapter 7 - The Trap Beneath the House
Victor's next move came two days later.
A message appeared on my private phone.
You have forty-eight hours.
Bring the girls.
Come alone.
I knew it was a trap.
So did Hector.
But we needed Victor alive.
We needed evidence.
We needed to know what he had planned.
Marisol sat at the table.
“He will target the girls.”
“I know.”
“And he will use your love for them.”
“I know.”
“Then don't go.”
I looked at her.
“I have to.”
“No.”
Her voice became firm.
“You're still thinking like the man who believes he can solve everything alone.”
I almost smiled.
“You've known me too long.”
“I've watched you make the same mistake every day.”
She reached across the table.
“Don't make it tomorrow.”
I stared at her hand.
Then took it.
She looked surprised.
So was I.
“Then help me.”
Her eyes softened.
“How?”
“We build the trap together.”
The plan was simple.
Victor believed he controlled the house.
So we would let him.
He believed he could predict me.
So we would give him what he expected.
We moved the girls to a fake safe location.
A decoy convoy traveled north.
I stayed behind with Marisol.
Hector ran surveillance.
At midnight, the house was dark.
Then the lights came on.
Men entered through the back.
We watched through hidden cameras.
Victor's men.
Six.
Then eight.
Then Damian.
He walked straight into the study.
He opened the safe.
Found nothing.
He frowned.
Then Victor's voice came through the speaker.
“Where are the girls?”
Damian looked around.
“Not here.”
A second voice answered.
“Then find them.”
Chloe.
She had been released under guard after agreeing to cooperate.
But she had escaped.
Now she was working with Victor again.
Hector whispered,
“She came in through the basement.”
I looked at Marisol.
She nodded.
We moved.
The confrontation began in the lower corridor.
Damian saw me first.
“You.”
I aimed my weapon.
“Where is my father?”
He smiled.
“Closer than you think.”
He triggered a hidden door.
A panel opened behind me.
Victor stepped through.
This time, he wasn't alone.
He held a photograph of Sofia.
“You always did prefer sentimental things.”
I felt rage explode.
“Where is she?”
Victor smiled.
“Safe.”
“Where?”
“She'll be safe as long as you cooperate.”
Marisol stepped beside me.
Victor looked at her.
“You.”
Marisol didn't move.
“You were always the problem.”
She answered.
“No.”
“You were the witness.”
“I was.”
“You knew Elena's plan.”
“Yes.”
“You should have left.”
“She asked me to stay.”
Victor laughed.
“She trusted the wrong people.”
Marisol looked at me.
“No.”
She shook her head.
“She trusted the right people.”
Victor's expression changed.
I understood.
The trap was ready.
Hector activated the recording.
Every word Victor had spoken was being transmitted to federal investigators.
Victor realized it too late.
“You can't prove anything.”
I held up the photograph.
“You already did.”
He reached for his gun.
Marisol moved.
She kicked it away.
Damian fired.
Hector's team intercepted him.
Chaos exploded through the house.
Victor ran.
I chased him upstairs.
He reached the attic.
I blocked the door.
“It's over.”
He laughed.
“Do you know why I chose you?”
“No.”
“Because you were weak.”
I stepped closer.
“You confused love with weakness.”
He shook his head.
“Your mother made you soft.”
“My wife taught me to protect.”
“She taught you to surrender.”
“No.”
I looked directly at him.
“She taught me what mattered.”
Victor raised his hands.
For one second, it seemed finished.
Then a hidden gunshot came from behind.
Marisol fell.
Everything stopped.
“Marisol!”
She had been hit in the shoulder.
I caught her.
Victor ran.
Hector chased him.
But I didn't.
I stayed.
I pressed my hand against Marisol's wound.
“Stay with me.”
She grimaced.
“I've survived worse.”
“Don't joke.”
“You're shaking.”
“I know.”
She smiled.
“Then you finally care.”
I almost laughed.
“I've always cared.”
She looked into my eyes.
“That wasn't what I meant.”
Sirens approached.
Victor was arrested outside.
Damian was captured.
The recording had everything.
The network collapsed within hours.
But as the ambulance took Marisol away, I stood beside her.
She looked at me.
“Your daughters?”
“Safe.”
“Good.”
Her eyes closed.
I held her hand.
“Marisol.”
She opened them.
“Yes?”
“Come home.”
She smiled.
“Which home?”
May you like
I looked at her.
“Ours.”
