Donde Hubo Fuego -

Julián didn't need to look at the address on the monitor to feel the knot in his stomach. He knew the neighborhood; he knew the street. As the truck roared through the empty streets of Mexico City, the orange glow on the horizon confirmed his worst fear. It was the old textile warehouse on Calle de la Amargura.

Suddenly, the debris shifted. A beam of light pierced the smoke. "I told you it was a suicide mission," a voice cracked. Donde Hubo Fuego

"They say where there was fire, ashes remain," she said softly. Julián didn't need to look at the address

When they arrived, the structure was a skeleton of iron and roaring heat. Julián, seasoned and scarred, took the lead on the north flank. He was pushing through the thick, oily smoke when he saw her—not a ghost, but a silhouette in a captain’s helmet from Station 12, directing her team with the same fierce precision he remembered from ten years ago. It was the old textile warehouse on Calle de la Amargura