Chapter 3 - Whispers in the Dark
The name El Alacrán sent a jolt of pure ice through my veins. Even living in Doha for three years, I knew the rumors of the local underworld figures who controlled the docks and extortion rackets in the Port of Veracruz. Ramiro wasn't just a thief; he had climbed into bed with monsters.
“Ramiro!” The footsteps on the stairs were heavy, unhurried, and dripping with authority.
Ramiro cursed under his breath, his gaze shifting between me and the locked door. “Stay here. Don’t make a sound,” he hissed, pointing the needle at me threatingly. He turned the deadbolt, stepped out into the hallway, and slammed the door shut behind him, locking it from the outside.
The moment the lock clicked, I dropped to my knees beside my mother.
“Mama,” I sobbed softly, my hands flying to the knots binding her wrists. The sheets were tied tight, soaked with her sweat and dried blood. “Mama, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know. I swear to God I didn’t know.”
“Marisol...” Her eyes were foggy, but the terror in them had been replaced by a fierce, protective maternal instinct. “You shouldn’t have come. They... they owe money. Ramiro lost everything in the cockfights and the illegal betting. He used your money to pay off his debts, but it wasn't enough. They came for the house. They came for everything.”
“I’m getting us out of here,” I said, tearing at the tough fabric with my teeth until the first knot gave way. My mother’s left hand fell free, limp and bruised.
As I worked on the second wrist, I pulled the phone out of my pocket. The screen was flashing. A text message from Daniela Vázquez was waiting.
“The camera feed is live. We have his full confession on video regarding the insurance fraud and the poisoning intent. The local police are mobilized, but El Alacrán is a high-level target. They are bringing federal backup. Hold on, Marisol. Do not provoke them. The police are twelve minutes away.”
Twelve minutes. In this house, twelve minutes felt like a lifetime.
From the hallway, the voices grew louder. The door to the adjacent room slammed open, and I could hear Ramiro arguing with the newcomer.
“I told you she would bring the cash!” Ramiro was saying, his voice defensive, pleading. “She spent three years in the gulf. She has at least eighty thousand dollars. The suitcase downstairs... it’s a trick. She hid the real money somewhere in the city.”
“Then find it,” El Alacrán’s voice was smooth, low, and terrifyingly calm. “Because the plaza boss doesn’t care about a suitcase full of paper or a life insurance policy that pays out in two days. We need the cash tonight, Salgado. If the money isn't in my hands by midnight, I’m taking this house, I’m taking your sister, and I’m leaving you in the dirt.”
“I’ll get it out of her!” Ramiro promised desperately. “Just give me an hour with her. I have the sedative. I’ll make her talk.”
May you like
I freed my mother’s second wrist just as the heavy footsteps turned back toward our door. I quickly pushed the forged documents back under the mattress, shoved the phone deep into my pocket, and stood in front of my mother’s bed, hiding her freed hands behind my back.
The key turned in the lock.
