Gasping, Gabriela crashed through the penthouse door. Her lungs burned. Every muscle screamed from the relentless climb. Behind her, the rest of the group spilled into the vast, silent space, their exhausted forms collapsing onto plush, untouched furniture. Relief washed over them, a potent drug after the chaos of the streets below. Sunlight streamed through panoramic windows, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air, a stark contrast to the blood-soaked concrete they had just left. Crystal chandeliers hung from the impossibly high ceiling, reflecting the city's ruined skyline. It was a sanctuary, an untouched bubble of luxury suspended above hell. Gabriela forced a wide, bright smile onto her face, ignoring the throbbing pain in her shoulder. "Looks like we've hit the jackpot, team!" she announced, her voice a little too loud, a little too cheerful. Mateo watched her, his brow furrowed. He saw the tremor in her hands, the way her shoulders hunched ever so slightly despite her efforts. He knew that smile. It was the same one she wore when she was about to do something reckless, something dangerous. Sofía, still clutching the military walkie-talkie, sank onto a white leather couch. Its pristine surface seemed absurdly out of place. "Jackpot indeed," she muttered, rubbing her temples. "But for how long?" Leo, ever pragmatic, began checking windows, testing locks. "This place is sealed tight. Biometric scanners, reinforced glass. Whoever lived here invested heavily in privacy. Or paranoia." Valentina pulled out a granola bar from her pack, her movements slow and deliberate. Her eyes, usually so sharp, looked distant. "Paranoia paid off for them," she said, her voice raspy. "They aren't here." Gabriela nodded, keeping her smile fixed. Her gaze swept over the luxurious, empty rooms. A high-tech kitchen gleamed with unused appliances. A massive holographic display flickered in the living area, showing serene images of a beach that no longer existed. This was a temporary haven, she knew. A fragile illusion. Her shoulder pulsed, a persistent ache blossoming into a sharper, more insistent pain. She needed a moment. She needed to be alone. "I'm going to scout the bedrooms," she chirped, pushing off the doorframe. "See if we can find any useful supplies, maybe some first aid!" No one argued. They were too tired, too shell-shocked. Mateo's eyes followed her until she disappeared down a long corridor. A knot tightened in his gut. He didn't trust that smile. --- Gabriela found a master suite, opulent and disturbingly sterile. The bed was unmade, sheets tangled, as if the occupants had fled in a hurry. She locked the door, leaning against it, her breath coming in ragged gasps. Her shoulder burned. Pulled off her jacket, revealing the bloodstained sleeve of her shirt. A fresh crimson stain spread across the fabric. She had reopened the old wound from the fall. The pain was a familiar companion, a dull comfort in its familiarity. Her fingers fumbled with the hem of her shirt, tearing a strip of fabric. She pressed it against the wound, a sharp intake of breath escaping her lips. It was deeper than she thought. She needed proper bandages. Her eyes scanned the room, landing on a bedside table. A small, ornate frame sat there. She picked it up. It was a photo of a young boy in a wheelchair, his bright eyes full of life, a mischievous grin on his face. Lucas. Her little brother. A wave of guilt, cold and heavy, crashed over her. She pressed the photo to her chest, her knuckles white. "Lo siento, Lucas," she whispered, her voice cracking. "Lo siento mucho." Sorry for everything. Sorry for not being enough. Sorry for putting herself in danger again. The apology was a prayer, a confession, a desperate plea for forgiveness from a ghost. She found a first-aid kit in the spacious en-suite bathroom, hidden behind a mirror. Sterile gauze, antiseptic wipes, medical tape. She worked quickly, her movements precise despite the tremor in her hands. The antiseptic stung, a searing heat that made her grit her teeth. She wrapped the bandage tightly, securing it with tape. The fresh white against her skin felt like a lie. She stared at her reflection in the mirror, her eyes haunted. The forced smile was gone, replaced by a raw, naked vulnerability. Her jaw tightened. This wasn't about Lucas anymore. This was about them. About keeping them safe. Her life, her pain, meant nothing if she couldn't protect them. A knock on the door jolted her. "Gaby? Everything alright in there?" Mateo's voice, calm but insistent, filtered through the thick wood. Her heart hammered against her ribs. She straightened, quickly pulling her jacket back on, ensuring the new bandage was completely hidden. She pasted the smile back on. "Never better, Mateo! Just admiring the… modern art!" she called out, trying to sound breezy. "Found a pretty sweet first-aid kit too. Any boo-boos out there?" A beat of silence. Then, a sigh. "Just thought I heard something. We're setting up a perimeter. Come out when you're done." His voice held a subtle edge, a hint of suspicion that made her stomach clench. --- Rejoining the group, Gabriela clapped her hands together. "Alright, team! Who's hungry? I saw some nutrient paste in the kitchen, probably gourmet stuff!" Sofía was still messing with the walkie-talkie, a frustrated frown on her face. "It's just static now. Whatever signal it had, it's gone." "Good," Leo said. "Less chance of them tracking us." Mateo, however, wasn't listening. His gaze was fixed on Gabriela's left sleeve. A tiny speck of blood, almost imperceptible, had seeped through the fabric near her wrist, a stark crimson dot against the dark material. Her heart skipped a beat. She subtly shifted her arm, trying to cover it. "You alright, Gaby?" Mateo asked, his voice low, his eyes piercing. "Me? Never better! Strong as an ox, quick as a… squirrel!" She laughed, a bright, brittle sound. "Why, you worried about little old me?" Mateo stepped closer, his expression unreadable. "Just saw a smudge. Looks like blood." "Oh, that?" Gabriela waved a dismissive hand. "Probably just ketchup. You know me, always making a mess. Or maybe it's zombie guts from that last… hug." She winked, trying to lighten the mood, but her smile felt like a mask, heavy and suffocating. Mateo didn't smile back. His eyes narrowed, searching for something, a flicker of truth behind her forced mirth. He saw the tension in her jaw, the way her grip tightened on her elbow. He suspected it then, the chilling thought settling deep in his mind. She wasn't just hiding an injury. She was hiding a death wish. Suddenly, the lights in the penthouse flickered. The holographic beach display glitched, then dissolved into a series of stark red warnings, lines of code scrolling across the vast screen. A high-pitched whine filled the air. "What's happening?" Valentina cried, her eyes darting around nervously. Leo sprang to his feet, instantly alert. "System rebooting?" The massive panoramic windows, moments ago a source of light and a view, began to retract, thick, armored shutters sliding into place with a grinding metallic groan. The penthouse plunged into an eerie, dim twilight. "Security protocol initiated," a calm, synthesized female voice announced, echoing through the now-enclosed space. "Unauthorized occupants detected. Initiating lockdown sequence." Panic flared through the group. "Unauthorized? We just found an open door!" Sofía shouted, banging on one of the now-sealed shutters. "No, this isn't right," Leo muttered, frantically tapping at a control panel near the kitchen. "It's locking us *in*." The apartment's luxurious interior transformed. Sections of the floor began to glow with faint red lines, outlining pathways, directing their attention to a single, reinforced door in the far corner of the living area. "Biometric scan failed," the synthesized voice continued, devoid of emotion. "Entering Level Two containment. Please proceed to designated safe room." "Safe room?" Gabriela muttered, her smile finally faltering. This wasn't a jackpot. It was a trap. A heavy steel door, seamlessly integrated into the wall, slid open, revealing a small, windowless chamber. "Move!" Mateo yelled, pushing Sofía towards the opening. "Whatever this is, we don't want to be out here!" They scrambled into the room, a cramped, sterile space. The air felt thick, heavy. The heavy steel door hissed shut behind them, sealing them inside. Seconds later, the automated ventilation grilles closed with a soft hiss, and a computarized voice announced: "Protocolo de contención de riesgo biológico activado. Purificación del aire desactivada. Agotamiento del oxígeno en cinco minutos."

El peso de una sonrisa