Chapter 8 - THE HEAVIEST BURDEN
The sight of the federal cutters broke the mutiny instantly. The remaining loyalists to Vance dropped their weapons, throwing their hands in the air. Prison was preferable to a cartel execution, and a federal raid meant the game was over.
Vance, however, did not surrender. He realized that if Adrian lived to testify, or if the cartel found out he orchestrated the hostile takeover, he would suffer a fate far worse than federal prison.
Driven by sheer desperation, Vance broke from cover. He sprinted toward the spiraling staircase, firing wildly at the bar to keep Theo and Adrian pinned down. He was heading for the upper decks, heading for the helipad.
"He's going for the chopper!" Theo yelled, rising to take a shot, but Vance was already ascending the stairs two at a time.
Rosa, still on the second-floor balcony, saw Vance charging up toward her. She had no gun. She had no weapon. But as Vance reached the landing, pointing his gun right at her chest, she didn't flinch.
"Out of my way, you filthy maid," Vance snarled, his eyes wide with manic panic.
"My name is Rosa Velasco," she said, her voice eerily calm, channeling the absolute authority of a mother protecting her young. "And my husband was Mateo Marchetti."
Vance pulled the trigger.
Click.
The gun was empty. He had fired his last round in the atrium.
Vance stared at the gun in disbelief. In that split second, Rosa lunged forward. She didn't throw a punch. She threw her entire body weight at him, hitting him squarely in the chest.
They grappled violently on the edge of the shattered glass balcony. Vance was bigger and stronger, but Rosa fought with the feral intensity of a cornered animal. She clawed at his face, tearing at his eyes. Vance roared in pain, delivering a brutal backhand to her jaw that sent her sprawling backward onto the carpet.
Vance spat blood, drawing a heavy tactical knife from his boot. He stepped over her, raising the blade. "I killed your husband. I should have killed you both years ago."
Suddenly, a small figure darted out from the shadows of the hallway. Pia.
She didn't have a weapon, but she held her heavy, battered kitchen scale—the one with the cracked plastic dome. She ran full speed at Vance and swung the metal base of the scale directly into the back of his knee.
Vance buckled, crying out as the heavy metal struck the joint. As he dropped to one knee, a gunshot rang out from the bottom of the stairs.
Vance’s shoulder exploded in a spray of red. He dropped the knife, collapsing onto the glass landing, groaning in agony.
Rosa gasped, scrambling backward, pulling Pia into her arms.
They looked down. Adrian Marchetti stood at the bottom of the shattered stairs, leaning heavily on Theo. The smoking barrel of his pistol was aimed precisely at where Vance lay bleeding.
"You don't get to touch my family, Royce," Adrian said, his voice cold and final.
The heavy thumping of the helicopter grew deafening. Armed Coast Guard tactical teams repelled down onto the upper decks, smashing through the glass doors.
"Drop your weapons! Get down!" men in body armor screamed, flooding the atrium.
Theo immediately placed his gun on the floor and put his hands on his head. Adrian slowly lowered his weapon, dropping it onto the marble. He looked up at Rosa and Pia, offering them a small, reassuring nod, before raising his hands.
The federal agents swarmed the room, zip-tying Vance, Theo, and the rest of the surviving crew. Two agents rushed up the stairs, guns trained on Rosa.
"We're hostages!" Rosa cried, holding her hands up, shielding Pia. "We're the cleaning staff! They held us hostage!"
May you like
An agent quickly lowered his weapon, radioing for medical. "It's okay, ma'am. You're safe now. We have you."
As the medics carried Adrian out on a stretcher, he locked eyes with Rosa one last time as he was carried past her. He didn't say a word, but the message in his pale eyes was clear. I will handle this. Keep her safe.
