CHAPTER 36: A WHISPERED THREAT

RAYÉN

The screech of tearing iron sounded like a mountain splitting open above us.

Lautaro didn’t hesitate. 

The moment the chain fell and the heavy metal frame dropped, he held me so tight  around my waist.

 He slammed his body into mine, driving us sideways across the marble floor.

We hit the stone just as three tons of brass, gold, and cut crystal crashed down where we had been dancing.

The explosion was deafening. Glass shattered into countless sharp pieces, spraying across the ballroom. Lautaro covered me completely, his broad back taking the worst of it. His tuxedo absorbed some of the impact, but I felt him flinch when a jagged piece of crystal tore through his shoulder.

Dust and plaster rained down around us.

“Lautaro,” I gasped, my lungs burning beneath his weight. My hands pressed against his chest, feeling his heart beath pounding beneath my palms.

 “Get off me”

“Stay down.”

His voice was rough with adrenaline.

He lifted his head. A thin line of blood ran down his left jaw, dripping onto his white collar. His amber eyes searched my face.

“Are you hit?”

“No.” I swallowed hard. “I’m fine.”

He stared at me for one long second, making sure I was breathing, then rolled away and rose onto one knee.

The ballroom had changed. Screams filled the air as Santiago’s elite rushed toward the heavy oak doors. Emergency red lights flashed over the wreckage.

Lautaro’s enforcers formed a shield around us, weapons aimed at the upper balconies.

“Don Lautaro!” Millaray pushed through the guards, her chestnut bob disheveled and a black submachine gun held low.

 “The main security feed was cut from the basement. Someone overrode the locks!”

Lautaro stood, pulling a black pistol from beneath his jacket.

“My mother-in-law?”

I scrambled up, my emerald silk dress covered in white dust. I looked toward the VIP balcony.

Empty.

Beltrán was gone too.

“She’s already out,” I said, surprised by how steady my voice sounded. 

“She didn’t come here to talk. She came to clear the board.”

“She failed.”

His amber eyes locked onto mine.

“This was only her opening move,” I said. 

My hands shook as I smoothed my dress, checking for the razor-thin titanium blade strapped to my inner thigh. 

“She knows you have the cufflink. She knows Conco gave you the key. She can’t let either of us leave this estate alive.”

“Millaray, take six men and secure the north gate,” Lautaro ordered. “Bring the armored SUVs to the private courtyard. We are moving now.”

“Understood.”

Millaray signaled her team and disappeared through a side exit.

A wave of fleeing guests surged past us. The main doors had jammed, trapping people in a panicked crowd.

Lautaro reached for my arm, but someone shoved between us.

“Lautaro!”

My hand slipped from his sleeve.

“Rayén, stay there”

Before he could reach me, a tall figure stepped from the crowd.

They wore a heavy velvet cloak and a dark masquerade mask shaped like a raven. Unlike everyone else, they weren’t running. They moved with calm, deliberate steps and brushed past my right side.

Before I could reach for my weapon, a cold hand locked around my wrist.

The grip was strong. Trained.

I gasped and reached for my hidden blade, but the figure leaned close.

A low, synthetic voice whispered against my ear.

“Leave the Don before the sun hits the Andes, little bird,” the stranger hissed. “Or you will bleed in the same fire that consumed your brother.”

Something small and sharp was forced into my palm.

Then the figure released me and disappeared into the screaming crowd.

“Rayén!”

Lautaro reached me, gripping my shoulder and pulling me against his chest. His gun was raised, his amber eyes searching the hallway.

“Who was that?” he demanded. “Did they touch you?”

“No,” I lied. “It was just someone trying to reach the doors.”

Why did I lie?

The question burned inside me.

I hated this man. He had taken my freedom, forced me into marriage at gunpoint, and occupied my family’s stolen empire.

Yet my fingers tightened around the folded parchment hidden in my palm.

Lautaro didn’t notice. His attention stayed on me as his men cleared a path toward the private stairwell.

“We’re taking the mountain road back to the stronghold,” he said. “Maitén will have hit squads on the main highways. We stay off the grid.”

I said nothing.

I couldn’t.

My thumb traced the rough edge of the note inside my fist.

We reached the underground stairwell. Red emergency lights flickered across the concrete walls.

Lautaro stopped at the top of the stairs and raised his gun, signaling his men to sweep the garage below.

I stepped into the corner while his back was turned and opened my fist.

The parchment was thick and dark, stained brown around the edges.

I unfolded it with trembling fingers.

Three lines stared back at me.

He didn’t save Conco, Rayén. He bought him.

Look inside the left hem of your gown before midnight.

The fire was never an accident.

My breath caught.

I knew that handwriting.

Aconcagua.

My brother.

My hand dropped to the emerald silk of my gown. I traced the reinforced lining of the inner hem, remembering that Lautaro’s men had delivered the dress to my room before the gala.

My fingers caught on a small, hard seam near my thigh.

Something was stitched inside the silk.

I squeezed the fabric and felt metal beneath it.

A tiny cylinder, no bigger than a bullet.

Then a faint red light began pulsing through the green fabric.

A tracking beacon.

Active.

And counting down.

“Rayén.”

Lautaro’s voice came from the bottom of the stairs.

I looked up.

He had turned back toward me. His gun was lowered now, and something in his amber eyes softened as he held out his hand.

“Clear. Come down.”

I looked at the blinking red light beneath my dress.

Then at the man who had just taken a chandelier for me.

For one terrible second, I couldn’t move.

The tiny digital display on the cylinder changed.

00:04:59.

Four minutes and fifty-nine seconds.

And whatever was coming had already started.

I closed my fingers over the hidden device, forcing my face to stay calm. If Aconcagua had left this for me, then someone had planned every step leading to this moment. And if the beacon was meant to guide them to me, Lautaro was standing beside the target they wanted most.