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Secondslater, someone clears their throat.Weturn toward the sound to findMr.Whitmorestanding at the living room entrance, his presence as imposing as ever.Hisgaze shifts toValeriafirst. “Well, well, well, what do we have here?Oneof our guests causing a ruckus in my home?”
Valeriastands tall, her voice unwavering as she challenges him. “Stayaway from us.We’renot here to play games.”
Mr.Whitmorelaughs, a sinister sound that sends a chill down my spine. “Oh, you think you can just waltz in here and threaten me?Howamusing.”
Istep forward, feeling a surge of anger. “Youhaven’t changed one bit,Lionel,”Isay, my voice filled with disgust.
Mr.Whitmore’sconfusion turns to recognition as he focuses on me. “Camila?Ithought you were dead.”
Imeet his gaze with a cold stare. “That’swhat you wanted to believe.Unfortunatelyfor you, your men didn’t think to check ifIwas still breathing.”
Hiseyes narrow. “Youshould have stayed dead.”
Valeriasteps in front of me, her sword ready. “We’renot here to argue.We’rehere to stop you.”
Mr.Whitmore’ssmile fades, replaced by a grim expression. “You’retoo late.Theritual is nearly complete, and nothing you do can change that.”
Itake a deep breath, feeling the weight of his words. “We’renot leaving until you pay for what you’ve done.”
Hiseyes flash with a threat. “Youthink you can take me down?Ihave more power than you can imagine.”
Itighten my grip on the gunI’dhidden behind my back.
Mr.Whitmore’sgaze shifts to the remaining men in the room, and his voice turns cold and commanding. “Dealwith them,” he orders, pointing at us. “Makesure they don’t interfere.”
Themen begin to move, andValeriaandIbrace ourselves for the fight.
Asthey move on us,Iscan the room desperately for anything that could give us an advantage.Myeyes land on a canister of gas used to light the fireplace, next to it, a box of matches.It’sour only chance.Iquickly turn toValeria, urgency in my voice.
“Valeria, get that canister.”
Valeriadoesn’t hesitate.Shedarts toward it asIkeep my gun trained onMr.Whitmore, trying to maintain a steady aim.Hismenacing laughter fills the room.
“Ifyou shoot me,” he taunts, “my men won’t hesitate to take you down.Proceedcarefully,Camila.”
Hiswords send a burst of rage through me, andIalmost growl out my response. “It’sVerónicanow, you piece of shit.”
Hisexpression falters slightly, but his arrogance remains. “Ah,Verónica.Howquaint, though it changes nothing.You’restill outnumbered and outmatched.”
Valeriareturns with the canister.Igive her a nod, my grip on the gun strong, and whisper, “Onthree, throw the canister into the fireplace.”Ireach for the matches. “One, two, three.”
Valeriathrows the fuel just asIfire atWhitmore’smen, hitting them in the knees.Oneby one, they collapse to the floor.Myadoptive father scrambles for a gun, but he’s too slow.Valeriacharges at him, sending him sprawling.Ashe hits the carpet, she raises her sword and drives it through his chest, his dying gurgles echoing through the room.
Istrike a match and prepare to toss it into the fireplace.Valeriasees whatI’mdoing and moves to exit the living room.
Ithrow the match, and we both sprint away.
17
VALERIA
Wepush through the main doors, and just as we hit the grand staircase outside, a deafening explosion rocks the air.Idrop to my knees, instinctively shielding my face with my arms.
Theheat slams into us like a wall, andIcan barely make out the towering flames now consuming the mansion.
Ronniepulls me up, and we stumble down the marble stairs, my legs shaky from the adrenaline and the sheer magnitude of what just happened.Ifeel a sharp pain in my side where a piece of debris must have struck me, butIbarely register it over the rush of relief.
Atthe bottom of the steps, we collapse, sitting on the cold stone, panting heavily.Themansion behind us is an inferno now, a fiery beacon against the dark sky.Theflames roar and crackle, and the heat is intense, but it feels strangely comforting.
