Chapter 8 - The Hostage Situation
The massive explosion shattered the ornate glass windows of the banquet hall into a million deadly pieces.
A thick cloud of gray smoke instantly filled the room, blinding everyone and sending the guests into a screaming frenzy.
Alexander immediately tackled me to the marble floor, shielding my body with his heavy, Kevlar-lined suit jacket.
"Stay completely down," Alexander roared over the chaotic ringing in my ears.
I coughed heavily, trying to wave the toxic smoke away from my watering eyes.
The tactical police officers who had arrested Diego were violently thrown backward by the explosive shockwave.
Through the clearing smoke, I saw a dozen masked men heavily armed with military-grade assault rifles storming through the shattered windows.
They were not police officers, and they certainly were not Alexander's private security guards.
They were brutal enforcers from a rival mafia cartel, a ruthless group Diego had secretly betrayed to save his own skin.
"Secure the perimeter and find Diego," the lead masked man barked aggressively.
Diego, who had somehow survived the blast, was desperately crawling across the floor with his hands still handcuffed behind his back.
One of the masked enforcers spotted him and kicked him viciously in the ribs, flipping him over onto his back.
"You thought you could steal our cartel's product and just walk away quietly?" the enforcer sneered, aiming his rifle at Diego's face.
Valeria screamed hysterically from underneath a fallen table, accidentally drawing the attention of the heavily armed intruders.
The lead enforcer walked over and dragged Valeria out by her beautiful dark hair.
"Well, well, it looks like we found the traitor's beautiful wife," the man laughed cruelly.
He held a massive combat knife directly against Valeria's throat.
"If anyone moves a single muscle, I will slit her throat right here," he warned the room.
My parents were frozen in absolute terror, unable to protect their favorite daughter from the violent consequences of her own greed.
I lay on the floor next to Alexander, my mind racing at a million miles an hour to find a tactical solution.
I hated Valeria for what she had done to me, but I could not simply watch a cartel violently murder her in front of our parents.
I looked at Alexander, realizing we only had one desperate play left in our entire arsenal.
"Do it now," I whispered to Alexander, nodding toward the hidden communication device on his wrist.
Alexander tapped a sequence of buttons on his sleek, tactical watch.
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Suddenly, five of the terrified caterers in white uniforms stood up perfectly straight.
They calmly reached under their aprons and pulled out heavily suppressed submachine guns.
