Chapter 6: Taken in the Dark
The darkness smelled like gasoline and wet concrete.
That was the first thing I noticed when I woke up.
The second was the pain in my wrists.
They were tied behind my back.
I tried to move and felt rough rope cutting into my skin.
My mouth was dry.
My head throbbed.
For several seconds, I had no idea where I was.
Then I remembered.
The warehouse.
The gunfire.
Someone grabbing me.
Vargas shouting my name.
I opened my eyes.
A single yellow light hung from the ceiling.
I was sitting on the floor of a small room with concrete walls.
There was no window.
No furniture except an old wooden chair.
And someone was sitting on it.
A man.
He wore a dark jacket and had a scar across his left cheek.
He watched me with an expression that was almost bored.
“You're awake.””
I stared at him.
“Who are you?””
He leaned forward.
“The wrong question.””
“What do you want?””
“The right one.””
I said nothing.
He smiled.
“You're Esperanza Mendoza's grandson.””
I hated hearing my grandmother's name from strangers.
“Where am I?””
“Safe.””
“This doesn't look safe.””
“It isn't.””
He stood.
I tried to move backward, but the wall was already behind me.
He crouched in front of me.
“My name is Rafael Cruz.””
I didn't recognize it.
“Vargas knows me.””
“Everyone knows everyone in this city.””
“Not everyone.””
Rafael studied my face.
“You were harder to find than we expected.””
“I was living on the street.””
“Yes.””
“Then why didn't you take me before?””
“Because we weren't sure you were the right boy.””
“I am.””
“I know.””
His eyes moved to my shoulder.
“The scar.””
My blood ran cold.
Everyone seemed to know about that scar.
“How do you know about it?””
“Your father.””
“You work for him?””
Rafael didn't answer.
He pulled a photograph from his pocket and placed it on the floor between us.
It showed my mother.
Isabella.
She was standing beside a black car.
She looked frightened.
But that wasn't what made me stare.
Standing beside her was my grandmother.
And behind them was Mateo Vargas.
Three people.
One secret.
I looked away.
“What happened to my mother?””
Rafael picked up the photograph.
“That's what everyone wants to know.””
“Is she alive?””
“Possibly.””
“That's not an answer.””
“It's the only honest one.””
I pulled against the rope.
“Untie me.””
“No.””
“Why?””
“Because you have something.””
“I don't have anything.””
Rafael smiled.
“That is what your grandmother wanted you to believe.””
He reached inside his jacket and removed the silver pendant.
My pendant.
I had been wearing it around my neck.
Now it was in his hand.
I stared at him.
“Give it back.””
He turned it over.
“The broken-wing bird.””
“Give it back.””
“You know what it opens?””
I shook my head.
“No.””
He placed the pendant on the chair.
“Neither did we.””
“Then why take me?””
“Because the pendant isn't the key.””
“What is?””
Rafael leaned closer.
“You.””
I frowned.
“You're lying.””
“No.””
He pointed to my chest.
“Your grandmother didn't give you a key you could hold in your hand.””
He tapped his temple.
“She gave you a key you could remember.””
I stared at him.
Nothing made sense.
“My grandmother never taught me anything.””
“She taught you every day.””
“What?””
“Numbers.””
I froze.
My grandmother had taught me numbers.
Not ordinary arithmetic.
Strange sequences.
She would sit beside me at night and recite numbers while I copied them onto scraps of paper.
I had thought it was a game.
A memory surfaced.
Four digits.
Then six.
Then another four.
She had made me repeat them until I could say them without thinking.
I hadn't remembered them in years.
Rafael saw something change in my expression.
“There it is.””
I said nothing.
“What did she teach you?””
“Nothing.””
He slapped the wall beside my head.
“Don't lie.””
I flinched.
“I don't know!””
His anger disappeared almost immediately.
“That's the problem.””
He turned away.
“You truly don't know.””
I watched him pace.
“You're talking about the archive.””
He stopped.
“You heard that word.””
“Yes.””
“From Vargas?””
I nodded.
Rafael smiled.
“Then we're closer than I thought.””
A door opened behind him.
Another man entered.
He was older, perhaps sixty, with silver hair and a dark suit.
Rafael stepped aside.
The older man looked at me.
His expression changed.
“Aurelio.””
I stared at him.
“How do you know my name?””
He didn't answer.
Instead, he walked closer.
Then he lowered himself to one knee.
“Your mother loved you.””
My chest tightened.
“Who are you?””
“Someone who failed her.””
He looked at Rafael.
“Untie him.””
Rafael hesitated.
“Do it.””
The rope fell away.
I rubbed my wrists.
The older man sat opposite me.
“My name is Esteban Vale.””
“Are you working for my father?””
“No.””
“Vargas?””
“No.””
“Then who?””
He looked at the pendant.
“Your grandmother once worked for us.””
I stared.
“What is ‘us’?””
“The people who maintained the archive.””
“You're the network.””
Esteban nodded.
“My grandmother kept records for you?””
“She protected them.””
“Why?””
“Because the men who originally created the archive decided they could use it for profit.””
“What kind of records?””
“Records that proved who owned what.””
I didn't understand.
Esteban continued.
“Politicians secretly paid criminals. Criminals paid police. Judges accepted money. Businessmen financed illegal shipments.””
He leaned forward.
“The archive documented all of it.””
“And my grandmother had it?””
“Parts of it.””
“Where?””
Esteban's eyes softened.
“Everywhere.””
I frowned.
“She split the archive into five pieces and trusted five people.””
“Who were they?””
“My grandmother was one.””
“Yes.””
“Who were the others?””
Esteban looked at me.
“Your mother.””
I felt my heartbeat change.
“Who else?””
“Mateo Vargas.””
I looked away.
Gabriel had said Vargas knew what happened the night my mother disappeared.
Now I understood why.
“Who were the other two?””
Esteban hesitated.
“That information is what Gabriel has been killing people to recover.””
“Tell me.””
“No.””
“Why?””
“Because knowing their names makes you a target.””
I laughed bitterly.
“I was already kidnapped.””
Esteban's expression darkened.
“Yes.””
He stood.
“That's why we have to move.””
A sudden explosion shook the building.
Dust fell from the ceiling.
Rafael rushed toward the door.
“What's happening?””
Gunfire erupted outside.
Esteban looked at me.
“They found us.””
“Who?””
He didn't answer.
Another explosion.
The light flickered.
Rafael opened the door, fired twice into the corridor, then turned back.
“Vehicles.””
“How many?””
“Five.””
Esteban's face tightened.
“Gabriel.””
I stood.
“How do you know?””
“Because he doesn't send warnings.””
He sends destruction.
Rafael grabbed my arm.
“We have to go.””
We ran through a narrow hallway.
Men shouted behind us.
I could hear bullets striking metal.
The building shook again.
We reached a steel staircase leading downward.
“Down?”” I asked.
“There's a tunnel.””
We descended quickly.
At the bottom was a rusted maintenance tunnel.
Esteban pulled a flashlight from his pocket.
“Stay close.””
The tunnel seemed endless.
Water dripped from the ceiling.
I could hear distant footsteps behind us.
Then Rafael stopped.
“What?””
He raised his hand.
Everyone froze.
A faint sound echoed through the darkness.
Someone was humming.
A soft melody.
I knew it.
My grandmother used to hum it while cooking.
My entire body went cold.
“That song…”
Esteban looked at me.
“You recognize it?””
“My grandmother used to sing it.””
He closed his eyes.
“She taught it to your mother.””
A figure emerged from the darkness ahead.
A woman.
Thin.
Wearing a gray coat.
Her hair was dark.
She stopped beneath the flashlight beam.
I stared at her face.
She stared back at me.
Neither of us spoke.
Then she covered her mouth.
Tears filled her eyes.
“Aurelio?””
My knees almost gave out.
I knew that voice.
Not from memory.
From recordings.
From the stories my grandmother told.
From the dreams I had as a child.
“Mom?””
The woman stepped forward.
Esteban whispered her name.
“Isabella.””
She ran to me.
Her arms wrapped around my shoulders.
I was too shocked to move.
She smelled like rain and old perfume.
She was real.
Alive.
My mother was alive.
She pulled away and touched my face.
“You grew up.””
I couldn't speak.
“You grew up,” she whispered again.
I stared at her.
“Why did you leave me?””
Her face collapsed.
“I didn't.””
“Grandma said you died.””
“She was protecting you.””
“Vargas said you were taken.””
“I was.””
“By my father?””
She looked away.
“Yes.””
I felt anger rising.
“Then how are you here?””
“I escaped.””
“When?””
“Two months ago.””
“Why didn't you come find me?””
“I did.””
I stared.
“What?””
“I watched you.””
My stomach turned.
“You watched me?””
“From a distance.””
“You knew I was sleeping on the streets?””
Tears ran down her cheeks.
“Yes.””
“Then why didn't you take me?””
“Because Gabriel was watching you through the tracker.””
I remembered the phone.
“He would've followed you.””
She nodded.
“I thought keeping you where he expected to find you was the only way to keep you alive.””
I stepped away from her.
“You let me suffer.””
She closed her eyes.
“I know.””
“You let me sleep outside.””
“I know.””
“You let me go hungry.””
“I know.””
I couldn't stop the tears.
“You're my mother.””
“Yes.””
“You were supposed to come for me.””
She covered her face.
“I wanted to.””
Behind her, Rafael suddenly raised his gun.
“What is it?”” I asked.
He pointed toward the tunnel behind us.
A red laser moved across the wall.
Then another.
Esteban whispered, “They've entered the tunnel.””
Isabella grabbed my hand.
“We have to leave.””
We ran.
The tunnel split into two passages.
Esteban chose the left.
But Isabella pulled me right.
“No.””
He turned.
“Isabella!””
“That's the way Gabriel expects us to go.””
“How do you know?””
“Because I helped build this tunnel.””
They followed us.
We ran faster.
Gunfire erupted behind us.
Rafael returned fire.
A bullet struck the wall beside my head.
I ducked.
Then I saw a metal door ahead.
Isabella opened it.
We rushed through.
The door slammed shut.
Silence.
We were standing inside an abandoned chapel.
Moonlight poured through broken stained glass.
I looked around.
I knew this place.
Saint Miguel.
The same church where I had once been sleeping.
The same church where my grandmother's wooden box had disappeared.
My mother saw recognition in my face.
“You've been here.””
I nodded.
She took my hands.
“You need to remember.””
“Remember what?””
“The night your grandmother gave you the box.””
“I don't remember.””
“You do.””
“I was twelve.””
“You were five when she started preparing you.””
I stared at her.
“What did she teach me?””
My mother squeezed my hands.
“Five numbers.””
The memories came crashing back.
My grandmother sitting beside my bed.
Her finger tracing numbers across my palm.
One.
Seven.
Four.
Nine.
Three.
I whispered them.
“Seven… four… nine… three…”
My mother began to cry.
“That isn't the sequence.””
“What?””
“The first number.””
I closed my eyes.
I could hear my grandmother's voice.
Not from memory.
From somewhere deeper.
A whisper.
A warning.
And suddenly I remembered the missing number.
“One.””
My mother stared at me.
“Aurelio…”
“What?””
She stepped backward.
Her face had gone white.
“You just remembered the first key.””
A gunshot shattered the chapel window.
Isabella grabbed me and pulled me behind the altar.
Then a man's voice echoed through the broken doorway.
“Aurelio!””
I knew that voice.
Gabriel.
He had found us.
May you like
And this time, he wasn't calling to scare me.
He was calling because he finally knew that the secret my grandmother had buried for twelve years was beginning to wake up inside me.
