Chapter 7 - WRATH OF THE CARTEL
Over the next forty-eight hours, the underworld of the city bled. I didn't hold back. I utilized dead drops, hidden weapon caches, and old favors from independent assassins who owed me their lives.
First, the shipping warehouse burned. I rigged the entire facility with C4 and watched from a distant rooftop as Arturo's primary source of income went up in a spectacular mushroom cloud. Second, I targeted his lieutenants. The men who had turned against me found themselves trapped in their luxury cars, their brakes cut, or waking up to a silenced pistol pressed against their temples. I didn't kill them all; I left enough alive to spread the message. The King had not fallen.
I became a phantom, a ghost haunting the streets of my own city. Meanwhile, Isabel, Sofia, and my son—whom I officially named Mateo, meaning 'gift of God'—were securely hidden in a fortified convent run by nuns I had protected years ago. It was the one place Arturo would never think to look.
My brutal campaign terrified the syndicate. The capos who had eagerly joined Arturo started to panic. Their drug shipments were intercepted, their money laundering fronts were raided by anonymous tips to the feds, and their security forces were decimated. I was bleeding them dry.
On the third day, I intercepted a secure transmission. Arturo had called an emergency meeting with the remaining cartel bosses at his heavily guarded penthouse in the city center. He was losing control, desperate to assure them that I was a dying dog with a few lucky bites.
It was the opening I needed. I geared up with body armor, flashbangs, and enough firepower to take down a small army. I wasn't planning on sneaking in. I was planning on knocking the front door off its hinges.
Before I left, I visited the convent. I held little Mateo in my arms. He had my eyes, but he had his mother's fighting spirit. I kissed his forehead. I hugged Sofia tight, promising her we would eat ice cream in the park when this was over. Then I kissed Isabel. It wasn't a goodbye kiss; it was a promise.
May you like
"Bring yourself back to us," she whispered.
"I always do," I replied.
