He forced his breathing to even out. Quake or no quake, Gabriella and the kids were somewhere inside that mess—or under it.
“We continue,” he said. “Drivers, keep ten meters off any walls or towers. Eyes up for secondary collapse. Once we dismount, no one hugs hard cover unless you’ve checked what’s on top of it.”
He hesitated a fraction of a second, then added, “If anything came down on the interior, it may have taken some of their guards with it. Assume shaken, not neutralized.”
“Copy,” came a chorus of replies.
Picasso watched a new cloud of dust billow from a collapsed corner of the plant, grit sparkling in his night vision.
TWENTY-ONE
GABRIELLA
Gabriella’s heart hammered in the dark stillness. Deep, heavy breathing beyond the door told her the captors were finally asleep. She swallowed the lump in her throat and tested the rubble blocking the door one last time.
She worked with deliberate patience, slow and controlled. Using her forearms and the flats of her hands to muffle contact, she nudged small stones instead of trying to shift big ones, moving them fractions of an inch at a time. She timed each adjustment with the steady rhythm of the men’s breathing, freezing whenever she heard the slightest twitch or rustle.
Behind her, the children huddled together, the boy holding the girls close.
Little by little, the debris gave way under her fingers. A hairline crack appeared along the door’s edge, then widened into a faint sliver of moonlight slicing through the gloom.
She froze and listened. No voices. No footsteps. Only the quiet, even breaths on the other side.
Careful not to make a sound, she eased the door open just enough to slide her hand through, feeling along the edges and widening the gap until there was space to squeeze a small body through.
She turned to the kids, worn down and scared but alert and pressed up close behind her. They didn’t speak English. She didn’t speak Spanish. But the boy, the oldest at maybe seven, watched her with wide, trusting eyes. He reached for her hand without hesitation.
“We go,” she whispered, pointing to the door and then to the darkness beyond.
He nodded and tightened his grip. One by one, the smaller children followed, silent and careful as the moonlight guided their steps.
As soon as she was outside, the cold, crisp air bit at her skin, a sharp contrast to the stifling heat inside the room. She froze for a moment, listening. Nearby, the muffled even breathing of the two kidnappers drifted through the ruins. They were sprawled out against a crumbling wall, fast asleep.
The dim light revealed their worn uniforms and weapons discarded carelessly at their sides. Gabriella’s eyes scanned the area between them and the deeper shadows of the factory. Jagged concrete pillars and twisted metal beams formed a broken labyrinth. The perfect hiding spots but also potential traps.
She motioned silently to the children, whose breath came in shallow whispers. The boy took the lead, stepping lightly over shattered pavement and scattered rubble. His small frame wove through narrow gaps. Gabriella followed close behind, her gaze flickering constantly to the guards. Every creak of debris, every crunching step threatened to wake them.
Ahead, beyond a cluster of fallen beams, she spotted a bright shaft of moonlight filtering through a shattered wall that was possibly an exit. Holding her breath, she began plotting their cautious path, inching forward like a shadow in the night, desperate to escape without disturbing a single soul.
The earth groaned.
The vibration was subtle at first, then turned violent under their feet.
An earthquake.
Gabriella grabbed the boy’s arm, yanking him back. “¡Aquí!” she blurted, surprising herself, pointing to two massive blocks of concrete leaning together, a fragile but better-than-nothing shelter.
The children scrambled toward it, breaths sharp and fast. Gabriella moved to follow, but her foot caught painfully on a twisted piece of rebar buried beneath the dusty rubble. As she tried to pull free, her ankle jammed tightly between two heavy chunks of concrete, the cold, unforgiving metal digging deep into her skin. A sharp, searing pain exploded through her ankle, and she stumbled, losing balance.
She fell hard but managed to shield the children with her body, wrapping her arms tightly around them. “Shh. Quiet,” she murmured into their tangled hair, gritting her teeth against the relentless ache pulsing from her injured foot.
Each slight movement sent fresh waves of pain radiating up her leg. She knew she’d have to work carefully to free her foot once the aftershocks subsided. For now, she forced herself to remain still, focusing on holding the children safe amid the trembling chaos.
The ground shook with a deafening roar. Dust and debris rained down. Stones thudded against her back and shoulders as she curled herself around the kids, shielding as much as she could from the falling concrete.
For a wild second, as rubble crashed somewhere deeper in the building, a single thought cut through the panic,maybe this will keep them down. If the ceiling came down on the guards’ side too, it might buy them precious time.
Seconds or minutes, time lost all shape in the chaos.
