Page 155 of The Lost Guardian

“Atahualpa,” Santiago whispered.

He heard Torres walking farther into the tomb, Leo and Mario on his heels. Santiago risked a quick look at Ali and saw that her eyes were utterly awestruck.

“You did it,” she whispered, licking her cracked lips. “You found him.”

“At last,” Torres breathed, gently touching one of the delicate golden flowers. “I knew it. I always knew it.” He laughed then, a hollow and greedy sound.

It was now or never. With the time it took them to navigate the chambers of the temple, it had to be close to noon. He could feel that much in his bones. Or was it the magic in his blood?

Regardless, Santiago knew one thing for sure: if he didn’t lay his grandfather to rest now, they would all be doomed.

“I did what you asked,” he told Torres, infusing as much authority into his tone as possible. “Now let me lay my abuelo to rest.”

Torres’s mouth twisted in a grimace. “And cover all of my treasure in death?” His shoulders gave a delicate shudder. “I think not.”

“You promised!” Ali shouted. “You swore you would let him honor his grandfather.”

“Yes, well,” Torres answered distractedly, his saucer-wide eyes reflecting the gold of the room. “I lied.”

Ali shot Santiago a look, clearly attempting to convey something in her gaze. Unfortunately, Santiago had no idea what it was. Before he could figure it out, she sprang into action.

Ali lunged toward Mario, who was pretending to scratch the chin of a five-foot-tall, ruby-encrusted chimú dog. She kicked the gun from his hand, much like she had the first time she barged into Santiago’s apartment.

This time, however, their fight was not for show. And Ali was injured. Santiago cried out in alarm.

Mario swung his fist and hit her in the stomach. Ali grunted but managed to grasp the handle of Santiago’s pack, wrenching it off Mario’s shoulders. He threw out his arms, catching the straps around his elbows. He swung at her again, with diminished mobility this time, and she ducked. Ali landed a quick, hard jab to the side of his throat.

Mario stuttered and wheezed, doubling over. Ali put herself back in range to yank the pack off him. The young mercenary grabbed Ali by the hair as she did it.

“Santiago, quick!” she yelled, throwing his pack with her injured arm. Santiago couldn’t imagine how painful that must’ve been. He managed to grab it from the air, just as the ground beneath their feet began to rumble.

The tremor was mild at first, but it increased in intensity so fast that Santiago was knocked to his knees. A golden llama toppled over, barreling into a second one and creating a small domino effect of sculpted animals. Torres lurched and fell forward, grabbing on to the coffin to steady himself.

That is, until the thick golden slab covering it slid open.

Torres fell back with a strangled cry.

Santiago watched as the ceiling cracked, and perfectly sculpted leaves floated to the floor. The delicate pieces of art blended in with the gold of the tiles.

Santiago’s first thought was how unbelievably unlucky they were to have an earthquake strike at this precise moment. But as an ominous, hazy mist swirled around the room, Santiago understood.

The curse. It was noon.

Were they too late?

Santiago upended his pack, scrabbling through its contents to find the cylindrical urn that held his grandfather’s ashes. Cans of food and tent pegs and first aid supplies scattered about the floor. He heard Ali cry out and lifted his head to see her still locked in a fight with Mario.

He also saw what Ali could not. Leo, behind her, raising his gun arm.

“Ali!” he cried out, but it was too late—an explosion of gunfire engulfed the room. Everyone froze. There was a moment of quiet stillness, right before Ali jerked violently and collapsed in a heap.

“No!” Santiago’s entire world narrowed to a point. He threw himself toward her. But the temple’s shaking was too severe. He could barely step a foot in front of him without being thrown to the side.

No no no nonononono. He hyperventilated. This can’t be happening. There is no way Ali got shot.

He watched as a puddle of red formed beneath her strong, soft body. Ali twisted her head, meeting Santiago’s eyes. She extended an arm toward him.

“Do it,” she yelled.