Chapter 64 The Breaking Point

The air smelled of burnt gunpowder and blood. Diego’s shirt clung to his skin, damp with sweat and the residue of the night’s carnage. Across the dimly lit warehouse, Catalina moved in slow, deliberate steps, the click of her heels echoing against the concrete floor. The gun in her hand gleamed under the flickering overhead lights, steady, unwavering, aimed directly at his heart. Mariana, standing beside him, her breathing ragged from pain, stiffened as Catalina’s lips curled into a smirk.