As Selena watched Santiago enter with his small black suitcase, she fought to control her breathing. Despite her resolve, her heart hammered against her ribs, the steady thump-thump betraying her outward calm. She kept her face impassive, repeating the same mantra in her mind: Miguel escaped. That's all that matters. Miguel escaped. Santiago placed the suitcase on Xavier's desk with practiced precision, the soft click of the latches unnaturally loud in the quiet room. He opened it slowly, methodically removing tools that gleamed under the study's lights—steel implements with specific, horrifying purposes. The arrangement was deliberate, theatrical even, designed to maximize terror before the first drop of blood was spilled. Xavier leaned against the doorpost, arms crossed over his chest,