The night air exploded.
Joie's first shot didn't just hit the SUV's windshield; it sent a message. She moved with the lethal fluidity she had perfected in Bangkok, firing three more rounds in rapid succession. The lead hitman's rifle clattered to the asphalt as he slumped back, clutching a shattered shoulder.
"Matt! Take them!" Joie screamed over the ringing in her ears.
Matthew didn't hesitate. The transition from executioner to protector was seamless. He shoved Pat and Alliana into the back of his armored Rover. "Stay down and don't look out the windows!" he roared.
But Lolo's men weren't done. A stray round from the SUV hissed through the air, catching Joie just above the knee. She let out a choked gasp, her leg buckling as the heat of the bullet tore through muscle. She hit the pavement hard, but her training kept her weapon leveled.
"Joie!" Alliana's scream was muffled by the Rover's heavy doors as Matthew floored it, peeling away from the scene.
Joie gritted her teeth, the metallic scent of her own blood hitting her senses. She fired two more shots, disabling the SUV's front tires. The hitmen, bleeding and broken, realized the she was willing to die on this bridge. Seeing Matthew's Rover disappear and hearing the distant wail of sirens, they limped their vehicle into a U-turn, retreating into the shadows of the city.
Within minutes, the bridge was swarming—not with police, but with the Tenorio "Cleaners." They moved like ghosts in grey jumpsuits, scrubbing the asphalt and collecting shell casings.
In the digital world, Timothy was working at a feverish pace. "Every CCTV feed from Santolan to Ortigas is looped," he muttered into his comms. "Social media scrapers are live. Anyone who posted a 'shooting' video is getting a copyright strike or a visit. The bridge never happened."
Stephen, standing in the hospital corridor as the long-tone of Lolo's heart monitor finally went flat, spoke into his headset. "Lolo is gone. The crown is mine. Bring the survivors to the Blue Marlin. And find my sister."
Joie rode to the Blue Marlin on sheer adrenaline. Her left boot was filled with blood, her face pale as bone. She didn't stop at the gates; she drove the Ducati straight into the underground loading bay, the bike skidding to a halt as she collapsed beside it.
When she limped into the basement interrogation wing, the scene was a nightmare in white and red.
Stephen was there, his sleeves rolled up, his hands stained. Lolo's hitmen were zip-tied to steel chairs. The air was thick with the scent of copper and ozone. Matthew stood by the door, Pat and Alliana trembling behind him.
"You touched a Tenorio," Stephen's voice was a low, terrifying vibration. He turned as Joie entered, his eyes softening only for a second when he saw her mangled leg. "Sit down, Joie. Patch yourself up. I'll handle the 'thank you' for these gentlemen."
"Steph, stop," Joie rasped, leaning against a cold concrete pillar.
"Stop?" Stephen laughed, a sound devoid of joy. "They tried to kill you on Lolo's orders. Lolo is dead, Joie. There are no more orders but mine."
Alliana pushed past Matthew, her eyes wide with a mix of horror and desperate relief. She ran to Joie, her hands hovering over the bloody mess of her leg. "Joie... oh God, Joie. We have to go to a hospital."
"I am the hospital, Alliana," Joie whispered, chuckling while wincing as she pulled a medical kit from her bike's pannier.
Pat was staring at Timothy, who had just walked in, wiping sweat from his forehead. "Tim... what is this place?" Pat's voice was small, broken. "You said you did tech support. Why is there a man bleeding in that chair?"
Timothy couldn't look him in the eye. "I do support the family, Pat. This is the family."
Alliana looked around the room—the torture, the coldness, the brothers standing like gods of death. She looked at Joie, who was currently tying a tourniquet around her own leg with shaking hands, not shedding a single tear.
"This is what you meant," Alliana whispered, the reality finally sinking in. "This wasn't just 'pressure.' This is an empire of blood."
Stephen stepped toward Alliana, his presence overwhelming. "She nearly died for you tonight, Alliana. Remember that when you decide whether to run or stay. Because tonight, the Tenorio family officially took the world. And we don't allow witnesses... unless they're blood."
He turned to Joie. "Fix your leg. We have a funeral to plan. And a throne to secure."
Joie looked up from her wound, her eyes meeting Alliana's. The choice wasn't about the door anymore. The door was gone. They were all in the basement now.