The air inside the vent was thick with dust, clinging to Serena's skin as she moved forward, her breaths steady but shallow. Every shift of her weight sent a faint creak through the old metal, but she ignored it. Stealth was everything now.
Santiago followed just behind her, close enough that she could feel the heat of his presence, but silent—his movements calculated, deliberate. She hated how good he was at this.
She forced herself to focus.
Below them, the guards' words still echoed in her mind.
She'll come. We just need to keep them occupied long enough.
Serena's grip tightened against the metal frame. Catherine wasn't just trying to escape—she was buying time. For what?
She turned her head slightly, meeting Santiago's gaze. His dark eyes glimmered in the dim lighting of the vent, sharp with understanding.
He leaned in just enough for his lips to brush near her ear. His voice was low, barely a whisper. "You thinking what I'm thinking?"
Serena swallowed. "That depends. Are you thinking she's after something in the house?"
His lips twitched in amusement. "That, and... that we should get to it before she does."
Serena hesitated. Lorenzo would expect them to regroup. But time wasn't on their side.
She exhaled. To hell with waiting.
"We move alone," she whispered. "If we find what she's after, we shut it down."
Santiago's smirk returned, a glint of excitement behind his gaze. "You and me, sneaking through the vents, chasing ghosts? Romantic."
Serena rolled her eyes. "Shut up and move."
Santiago chuckled but followed her lead.
The hunt was on.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The explosion had thrown the entire mansion into chaos.
Marco stormed through the east wing, his gun drawn, eyes scanning every corner for movement. The ringing in his ears hadn't faded since the blast, but he ignored it. Serena and Santiago were somewhere in the west wing, and they sure as hell weren't answering their earpieces.
"Where the hell are they?" Vincenzo growled beside him, his own frustration barely contained.
Lorenzo's voice came through the comms, clipped and controlled. "We've lost contact."
Matteo's voice cut in next, tense but sharp. "They were in the vents before the explosion. They could still be inside."
Marco swore under his breath. "You telling me Serena and that Spanish bastard are crawling through the goddamn walls while we're out here trying to clean up this mess?"
"Pretty much," Matteo muttered.
Marco clenched his jaw. Of course she'd do something reckless. Of course she'd go off on her own.
Vincenzo spoke up, his tone dark. "Catherine's still here. She's not trying to escape. Which means..."
Matteo exhaled sharply. "She's after something."
Lorenzo's voice held an edge of finality. "Find out what. Now."
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Back in the Vents
Serena and Santiago moved in sync, their breathing controlled, their bodies pressed against the cramped metal as they navigated the old ventilation system.
The mansion felt different from up here—less like home, more like a maze of secrets.
Santiago spoke quietly. "Any guesses on what she's after?"
Serena thought for a moment. Catherine had access to everything growing up—the same secrets, the same hidden rooms, the same codes. But there were things only the family's inner circle knew.
Something valuable. Something worth risking everything for.
Serena's stomach twisted.
"The archives."
Santiago's gaze sharpened. "Explain."
"The Rossi archives hold decades of records—contacts, ledgers, deals that go back generations." Her voice was tight. "Everything our family has ever controlled."
Santiago let out a low whistle. "And if she gets her hands on it?"
Serena's hands curled into fists. "She could sell us out to every enemy we've ever had. Or worse... use it against us."
A beat of silence. Then—Santiago grinned. "So, we're stealing it first?"
Serena smirked. "Obviously."
His chuckle was dark. "Now I remember why I like you."
She ignored the way her stomach flipped at that. Focus.
They had to move.
Fast.
Serena's pulse hammered in her ears as she crawled through the vent, her mind racing through every possibility.
If Catherine got her hands on the archives, the entire Rossi empire would be exposed.
Santiago moved behind her, his presence steady despite the tight space. "You sure about this, Tormenta?" he murmured.
Serena nodded, her voice firm. "If she's after the archives, we get there first."
Santiago chuckled under his breath. "You really don't like losing, do you?"
Serena shot him a look over her shoulder. "Would you?"
He smirked. "Not even a little."
The passageway grew narrower as they approached the west wing. This part of the house was old—forgotten. The vent sloped downward, leading to a hidden crawl space above the archives room.
Serena halted, pressing her ear to the metal.
Silence.
Then—footsteps.
Santiago tensed beside her.
Serena exhaled slowly. "She's already here."
He leaned closer, voice barely above a whisper. "How many?"
Serena's fingers flexed against the vent's edge. "Can't tell. But we don't have time to wait."
Santiago tilted his head, considering. Then he grinned. "So we drop in?"
Serena huffed. "That's your plan? Just drop in?"
"Unless you've got something better."
She didn't.
With a slow, steady breath, she reached for the screws holding the vent cover in place. One by one, she loosened them.
Santiago watched, his amusement never fading. "You're surprisingly good at this."
Serena ignored him, pushing the last screw free.
The grate slipped loose.
Santiago caught it before it clattered to the floor. They locked eyes.
Serena mouthed, "On three."
He nodded.
One.
Two.
Three.
Then—they dropped.
Serena's boots hit the ground without a sound. Vincenzo's ruthless training kept her landing controlled, poised. Santiago, ever the shadow, landed just as smoothly beside her, his gun already drawn.
The air inside the archives was heavy. Thick with the weight of history, of secrets buried under ink and blood.
Rows upon rows of filing cabinets stretched across the room, metal shelves lined with old ledgers, documents, and locked safes. The faint scent of aged paper mixed with the musk of dust.
It was the past, frozen in time.
And Catherine wanted to erase it.
Serena's grip on her gun tightened. Not happening.
Then—movement.
At the far end of the room, three men stood near an open cabinet, the faint glow of flashlights casting long shadows across their faces. They weren't searching. They were waiting.
One of them turned. His expression flickered from confusion to recognition to—
Gun up. Shot fired.
Serena's bullet hit home before he could even react.
The man crumpled, his weapon clattering to the floor.
The second moved faster.
His arm came up, finger tightening on the trigger—
Santiago was already in motion.
A single step, a smooth pivot, and then—a clean shot through the ribs. The man staggered backward, slamming into the nearest shelf before going still.
The third? He didn't try to fight.
He ran.
Serena's pulse spiked.
She lunged after him, reaching just in time to slam him against a metal cabinet. The impact sent a stack of papers fluttering to the ground, the faint scent of ink filling the air.
Her gun pressed against his jaw. "Where is she?"
The man gritted his teeth, his eyes dark with something eerily close to amusement. "You're already too late."
A cold chill crawled up Serena's spine.
Santiago stepped in, his gun pressing against the man's temple. "Too late for what?"
The man smirked.
Then—
BOOM.
A second explosion.
Not near the entrance.
Above them.
The ceiling shook violently, dust and debris crashing down from the rafters. A deep, echoing groan rippled through the foundations, metal beams straining under pressure.
Santiago let out a sharp curse, stepping back as a chunk of plaster collapsed onto the floor.
Serena barely had time to register the shift before realization slammed into her.
Catherine wasn't trying to steal the archives.
She was trying to bury them.
Her stomach dropped.
"Santiago—"
"I know," he cut in, already moving. "We need to—"
The lights flickered once.
Then—blackout.
Everything plunged into darkness.
Serena's breath hitched.
The room groaned.
Then came the worst sound of all—
Crack.
The ceiling was giving in.
___________________________________________________________________________________
The explosion rattled the entire mansion.
Marco barely had time to register the impact before the walls shook, a framed portrait crashing to the ground beside him.
His stomach twisted violently.
"Tell me that wasn't the west wing," he barked into his comm.
Matteo's voice came in, frantic. "That was the west wing."
Marco swore. Loudly.
Vincenzo was already moving, his jaw clenched. "They're in there."
Lorenzo's voice cut through the comms, razor-sharp. "Find them. Now."
Marco didn't need to be told twice.
He was already running.
Dust choked the air.
The weight of the collapse pressed against Serena's chest, her lungs burning as she forced herself to focus. She had been in tight spots before. But this—this was different.
This was her home coming down around her.
Santiago's voice broke through the chaos. "Serena—"
A sudden shift.
Metal groaned. The air rippled.
Then—another crack.
Serena barely had time to react before the entire ceiling caved in.
A slab of debris came crashing down, aiming straight for her.
And then—
Santiago moved.
Fast.
He tackled her, his arms locking around her waist as he dragged her back, both of them hitting the ground just as the debris slammed into the spot where she had been standing.
For a moment, there was nothing but silence.
Dust curled through the air. The weight of Santiago's body pressed against hers, his grip still tight around her.
Her breath caught.
Then he exhaled, voice low. "You good, Tormenta?"
Serena's heart was still racing.
But she managed a sharp breath. "I'm fine."
Santiago's grip didn't loosen immediately. For a split second, he stayed there, his heartbeat pounding against her back.
Then—he rolled off.
Serena pushed herself up, shaking off the dust, forcing herself to move. No time to think. No time to feel.
The room was collapsing.
And if they didn't move now—
They were going down with it.
Serena's pulse thundered in her ears as she scrambled to her feet, lungs burning from the dust that thickened the air like smoke.
The room wasn't just collapsing—it was imploding, the weight of the explosion tearing through the old structure like a slow, relentless execution.
And Catherine had planned every second of it.
Santiago moved beside her, fast, focused, alive. His shirt was smeared with dust, the faint cut on his cheek a reminder of how close they had come to being buried alive.
"Not to rush you, Tormenta," he drawled, voice laced with urgency, "but we have about sixty seconds before we become a tragic headline."
Serena ignored him, her eyes sweeping the crumbling room, searching—there.
The emergency exit.
Half-covered in debris, but still there.
"Santiago." She grabbed his wrist, pulling him toward it.
Behind them, a beam gave way, crashing down like a guillotine.
They ran.
The ground beneath them shook violently, shelves toppling over in a domino effect. A row of old records ignited, the flames licking hungrily at the forgotten ledgers—a visual representation of Catherine's plan in motion.
Burn everything. Erase the past.
Serena's stomach twisted.
Not if I can help it.
Santiago was already moving ahead, vaulting over fallen debris with a kind of grace that pissed her off. "I see the door," he said, glancing back at her. "If we push now—"
Another explosion rocked the foundation.
A metal beam snapped from the ceiling, swinging toward them.
Serena dived without thinking.
Santiago grabbed her at the last second, his arms tightening around her waist as they hit the ground hard, the impact rattling through her bones. The beam crashed down where they had been seconds ago, sparks flying as it slammed into a cabinet.
For a moment, neither of them moved.
Serena lay half on top of Santiago, her breath coming in ragged bursts. His grip didn't loosen immediately, his chest rising and falling beneath her.
Then—his low chuckle.
"You really like throwing yourself into danger, don't you?"
Serena shoved herself up, ignoring the way his hands lingered on her waist for a second too long.
"If you want to stay here and flirt, be my guest," she snapped, dusting herself off. "I'm getting out."
Santiago grinned. "That's the attitude."
They reached the exit.
Serena shoved against the door—locked.
Of course.
Santiago stepped up, pulling a small blade from his belt. "Give me ten seconds."
Serena rolled her eyes but stepped back, keeping her gun raised toward the collapsing room. The fire was spreading. The air was turning thick, hot.
Nine seconds.
A loud crash echoed from the other side of the door.
Eight.
Serena's stomach coiled.
Seven.
She heard it.
Footsteps.
Not running toward them. Running away.
Santiago cursed. "Catherine was here."
Serena's blood turned to ice.
Six.
Five.
The lock clicked.
Santiago yanked the door open.
They burst through.
Meanwhile – The Brothers Break In
Marco's shoulder slammed into the barricaded door, his strength rattling the wood. "Open, you bastard!"
Behind him, Vincenzo and Matteo were already pushing forward, weapons ready.
Lorenzo's voice crackled through the commotion. "Status?"
"Blocked off," Matteo gritted out. "Serena and Santiago are still inside."
Silence.
Then Lorenzo spoke, cold and sharp. "Then get them out."
Marco didn't need to be told twice.
He took a step back, breathing hard. "We do this together."
Vincenzo nodded once.
Then—they hit the door at the same time.
The wood splintered.
Light spilled through.
Marco was the first inside—then he saw them.
Serena and Santiago, emerging from the smoke-filled corridor, looking like they had just crawled out of hell.
Serena's hair was coated in dust, a faint cut along her temple. Santiago had one arm around her waist, supporting her just enough to keep her steady.
Marco's breath locked in his chest.
Santiago smirked, wiping soot from his jaw. "I know, I know. You missed us."
Marco didn't hesitate.
He punched him.
Santiago staggered back, clutching his jaw, his laughter cut off by a sharp exhale.
"Damn." He touched his lip, inspecting the faint blood. "I was hoping you'd wait until I had a drink first."
Marco's rage crackled like fire. "That's for dragging her into this."
Serena, still catching her breath, straightened. "He didn't drag me anywhere, Marco."
Marco's jaw ticked. "You were supposed to wait."
Serena met his glare with her own. "And let Catherine win? Not a chance."
The tension stretched, tight and unyielding.
Then—Lorenzo's voice in their earpieces. "What happened?"
Serena swallowed hard, turning toward him. She wasn't sure how to say it.
Then she did.
"She wasn't trying to steal anything," Serena murmured. "She was destroying it."
A beat of silence.
Then Lorenzo's voice—cold, deadly.
"Find her."
____________________________________________________________________________
✨ Author's Note ✨
Let's be real—writing action is no joke. 💀💥 This is my first time tackling full-blown action sequences, so if things get a little too chaotic... just call it immersive storytelling. 😎
That said, I hope you're strapped in because things are only getting wilder from here. 🚗💨 Tension? Check. Explosions? Obviously. Bad decisions? Oh, plenty. But hey, what's a story without a little mayhem? 👀🔥
Now, tell me—which moment had you holding your breath? Who stressed you out the most? I wanna hear ALL your thoughts, theories, and unhinged reactions. Drop a comment, scream into the void—whatever works. 😆
And listen, if you're enjoying this story, hit that star ⭐ like it owes you money. Drop a comment so I know you're alive after these cliffhangers. And if you really wanna make my day? Tell a friend—spread the chaos. 😏
More twists. More danger. More questionable survival instincts. Stay tuned. 🔥
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