CHAPTER 152: Insurrection-21

CHAPTER 152: Insurrection-21

Bruno pushed the door to the room open with the deliberation of someone who fears no answers. The light in the medical center was cold, whitish; monitors displayed steady rhythms. Elena Strauss lay reclined, her complexion paler than usual, bandages on her neck and wrist, a drip of serum flowing into the IV. Her eyes, however, had not lost a single ounce of that calculated calm: if something had touched her, she had turned it into silent rage.

"How are you?" Bruno asked without affection, dropping into the chair beside the bed. His movements betrayed that he, too, carried his own pain: a hidden grimace, a bandage around his ribs, his shirt stained dark with something more than sweat.

Elena barely twisted the corner of her lips. The silver-nitrate infection burned her skin slowly—redness, fever—but medicine was doing its job: keeping her stable. Her hatred for Fénix, however, burned stronger than any burn.

"I've survived," Elena said quietly. "That's enough for now. You? Are you in one piece?"

Bruno let out a small sound between his teeth, closer to a contained laugh than anything else.

"I came out just as banged up," he replied. "A cracked rib, some bruises… nothing time won't heal. I didn't come to talk about myself. I came with fresh news from the front."

Elena fixed her gaze on him, and in that stillness, a dangerous complicity was recognizable.

"Tell me," she ordered. "What happened to that bastard?"

Bruno rested his elbows on his knees and clasped his hands.

"We did what had to be done. We made it clear this isn't a game. But it wasn't perfect. The guy has two options: either he's dead—in which case, we can tie up two or three loose ends—or he's escaped alive, and then we'll have to hunt them all down like rats."

Elena clenched the sheet with her fingers; the fever wanted to draw foam on her lips, yet her voice didn't yield:

"If he's alive, I want him. I want him alive and broken. Let him suffer. Let us see him on his knees. I want him buried alive."

Bruno tilted his head, amused by the way she crafted torments:

"So you want a spectacle?" he asked. "Do you want us to humiliate him, or destroy him without mercy?"

Elena smiled, a gesture cold as a scalpel.

"Both. Let him know fear before nothingness. And let those who matter to him suffer searching for his corpse."

At that moment, the door opened again and Matthias entered: dark suit, confident step, professional gaze. He carried a tablet with images and notes. He stopped at the entrance, greeting with a slight nod. Upon seeing him, Elena sharpened her expression like someone picking up a sharp tool.

"Matthias," she said. "Come. Sit."

Matthias obeyed and approached calmly, without abrupt gestures.

"Report," Elena requested. "What do we know? Where are they? What's our forecast?"

Bruno left the chair and approached the tablet; he swiped through images still glowing on the screen.

"Fénix and Marcus escaped from the scene of the chaos. Agnes appeared with a vehicle and got them out. They're wounded, but alive. They've taken refuge in a safe house: Agnes's aunt. We have witnesses who saw them enter. Their getaway car was rendered useless." Bruno looked at Matthias coldly. "Contingent numbers in the city are deployed; if we move the right team, we locate them."

Elena closed her eyes for a second, as if calculating variables silently.

"Good," she said. "I want it done cleanly. Without scandal. But I want Marcus, Agnes, and Fénix never to get up again. No chance for them to tell anything. Do you understand me?"

Matthias swallowed and nodded professionally; his face showed no drama, only compliance.

"Yes, ma'am. I'll handle it personally."

Elena looked at him like someone looking at the board where the final piece has been placed.

"I want precision, Matthias. Certainty. No improvising. Any leak, and this becomes a political problem. We have the advantage now. Don't waste it."

Matthias clenched his fist under the table, a contained promise.

"I won't disappoint you," he replied. "Give me the deadline, and I'll close it tonight."

Bruno stayed quiet for a second, observing Elena with that mix of respect tangled with fate: she was the woman who had turned power behind the scenes into her work. He leaned slightly forward.

"You want it fast?" he asked dryly.

"I want it effective," she corrected. "And for us to have proof that we did it for public safety, not for revenge. The narrative must be in our favor."

Matthias nodded again and, already with the tablet in hand, stood up. Before leaving, he allowed himself one more gesture towards Elena.

"It will be so. I won't fail."

Elena smiled with hardness, and for a moment, let the poison of her ambition mixed with personal injury show. Bruno remained a moment longer, looking at Elena's figure propped on the bed and the hand trembling slightly on the sheet.

Agnes stood frozen for a second in the lobby of Enid Corp, her access card trembling between her fingers. The building seemed to breathe at a different speed in the morning: polished glass reflecting a pale sky, employees crossing like pawns on a board that never stopped. She took a deep breath and remembered the promise she had made to Fénix; each inhalation reminded her of the weight of that word.

In her head, a repetitive voice tried to impose itself over the fear:

*You can do this. You've done worse things. It's just one more errand.*
*You don't have authorization, Agnes. What are you doing?*
*You're doing it for him. You're doing it for the others. It's just go in, take, and leave. No one will notice.*
*If you're caught, you lose your job… and worse.*
*Alright. If you don't try now, tomorrow there might be no opportunity.*

She forced herself to calm her pulse. Counted to five. Told herself the adrenaline she felt was good: it gave her focus, not paralysis. She straightened up, pushed her hair back, and walked towards the elevators with measured steps.