Chapter 50: Aftermath
The mansion's living room was a battlefield. Bullet casings littered the floor like fallen leaves, shattered glass crunched beneath heavy boots, and the stench of gunpowder thickened the air.
Pedro led his squad through the chaos, advancing with grim determination. Bullets ricocheted off their bodies, sparking against walls and furniture, but Pedro and his men pressed forward like juggernauts, unyielding.
Emilio fired controlled bursts from his M16, taking down two intruders trying to flank from the hallway. The assailants crumpled, blood pooling beneath them. The other guards, hardened by years under Don Estello's roof, kept their formation tight, laying down suppressive fire.
Pedro barked orders over the din, his voice a razor through the chaos."John! Emilio! Clear the dining room and the kitchen! Keep them from circling back!"
John, the youngest of the volunteers, sprinted forward, rifle up, eyes scanning every corner. His heart pounded, his breaths came in short gasps. The adrenaline made him feel invincible, just like Pedro had said it would.
But then—
A shadow loomed from the stairwell. Mario, the leader of Team Bravo, grinned from the landing above, a fistful of white grains in his hand. "Hey!" he shouted, arm cocked back.
John barely had time to react. The rice burst forth in a cloud, dusting him head to toe. A cold chill seeped through his skin as the amulet around his neck burned against his chest, the enchantment breaking with a low hiss.
John's eyes widened. "Rice!" he screamed, stumbling backward.
The bullet caught him in the chest. Blood sprayed, the force throwing him back against the wall. Another shot followed—this time through his neck. John slumped to the ground, eyes glazed over, the life fading from them in seconds.
Pedro's eyes locked onto John's crumpled form, blood pooling beneath him. The sound of that last, strangled gasp echoed in his mind. "Shit," he muttered, teeth gritting.