Chapter 13

Chapter 13
The van sped through backroads slick with rain, the tires skidding around corners too fast, too tight. Every tree looked like a figure in the dark. Every curve, a trap. The drive felt endless, like we were trying to outrun not just Diego and his men—but time itself.

I sat in the back, soaked and shivering, clutching the flash drive like a lifeline. Luz had it now, safe inside her coat, but my fingers still felt its ghost. That sliver of evidence was more than data—it was blood and memory. It was the truth.

And it could get us killed.

Mateo didn’t speak, but his jaw was clenched so tight I could hear his teeth grind. Luz stared straight ahead, her glasses fogged over, her eyes sharp and unreadable.

No one said a word until we hit the safehouse.

It was a crumbling two-story tucked behind an abandoned fruit stand, surrounded by wild trees and a rotting fence. Mateo killed the engine, and silence dropped over us like a hammer.

“We can’t stay long,” he said.

Luz nodded. “Just enough to upload the drive. I have a contact—Elena. She runs a ghost server from a radio tower up north. Off-grid. No digital footprint.”

“How long will it take?” I asked.

“If we’re lucky?” Luz met my eyes. “Twelve hours. Maybe less.”

“And if we’re not?”

She didn’t answer.

Inside, the house groaned with every step. Luz set up her laptop in a dusty room with cracked tile floors and a broken lamp that flickered like a dying star. She slid the drive in, fingers flying across the keyboard with a kind of ferocity I envied.

“Encrypted six ways from hell,” she muttered. “They knew what they were hiding.”

Mateo stood guard at the front door, his hand resting on the grip of a pistol I hadn’t realized he had. I watched him from the corner of the room, wondering just how much of him I still knew—and how much of me had changed too.

“Do you think they’re coming?” I asked.

“I know they are.”

He didn’t sound afraid.

I was.

Not just of Diego, or what he’d do if he caught us—but of what I’d see in those files. What pieces of my past were still waiting in the code Luz was tearing through. What crimes. What blood.

I walked out onto the back porch, needing air.

The rain had stopped, but the clouds still hung low, like they were listening.

And in that heavy, watching silence, I remembered something.

A name.

No—not just a name.

A voice.

“Marina,” I whispered.

It hit like a gut punch.

A child’s laugh. The weight of tiny arms around my neck. A lullaby sung off-key, whispered promises in the dark.

My knees buckled.

Not a name.

My daughter.

I staggered inside, breath ragged, heart pounding. Luz looked up from the laptop, concern flashing across her face.

“I remembered something,” I choked. “Her name—my daughter’s name is Marina.”

Mateo’s face darkened. “You’re sure?”

I nodded, unable to speak.

Luz stood, her voice suddenly urgent. “Estela… there’s something else on the drive. Video files. One’s marked ‘MARINA—ASSET.’”

My blood went cold.

Asset.

“I need to see it.”

“Are you sure?”

“Now.”

Luz tapped the keys, and the screen flickered.

A sterile room appeared—white walls, a metal table, a single camera mounted in the corner. A girl, no older than seven, sat at the table, her legs swinging. Curly dark hair, big brown eyes.

My eyes.

She hummed to herself, oblivious.

Then the door opened, and a man entered. Not Diego—but someone older, wearing a badge clipped to his jacket.

“Good morning, Marina,” he said, too softly.

She smiled. “Hi, Mister Cruz.”

My breath caught.

The man placed a tablet on the table. “Show me the red square.”

Without hesitation, she pointed.

Then the blue.

Then the triangle.

Then the chemical compound for ethanol.

I stumbled back from the screen, bile rising in my throat.

They weren’t just watching her.

They were testing her.

Luz stopped the video. The silence that followed was heavy with nausea.

“She’s not just your daughter,” she said carefully. “She’s gifted. They’ve been… training her.”

“For what?”

Mateo answered, voice hollow. “For control.”

I sat down hard. “Where is she?”

Luz’s fingers flew again. “The metadata says the video was filmed six weeks ago. Facility ID matches a compound south of Tuxtepec. Private land. No flight logs. No permits. Officially, it doesn’t exist.”

“But she’s there?”

Luz nodded grimly. “And we don’t have long.”

I stared at the screen, the frozen image of Marina’s face burning into my mind.

“I’m going to get her.”

Mateo didn’t hesitate. “We’ll go together.”

But Luz stood slowly, her voice like flint. “You can’t just walk into a black site. We need a distraction. Something loud enough to make them look the other way.”

“What are you suggesting?”

“I release the files tonight.”

I froze.

“All of them?” Mateo asked.

Luz nodded. “Names. Photos. Operations. Full exposure.”

“But once they go live—”

“They’ll come for all of us,” she said. “Hard. Fast.”

“But it might be enough to get Marina out before they regroup,” Mateo said quietly.

We were silent for a long moment.

Then I stood.

“Do it.”

Luz’s fingers moved with a purpose that felt like vengeance.

“I hope you’re ready, Estela,” she said.

“I’ve been ready since the day they tried to erase me.”

At midnight, Luz hit send.

The files detonated across the dark web, ricocheting from server to server. Within an hour, news outlets began to stir. Hashtags lit up. Names trended. Anonymous accounts flooded with evidence—photos, bank statements, voice recordings, blueprints of Diego’s estate and Barrón’s shell companies.

And deep in the storm, a video began to circulate.

A woman testifying.

My face. My voice.

“My name is Estela Maria Rivera,” I said. “And I was never afraid of the truth.”

By dawn, the world would know what they’d tried to bury.

And I would take back everything they stole.

But first—

I would take back Marina.