Somewhere In Mexico

Chapter 2

Two long days had crawled by before the punishment was lifted.

The moment the lock clicked and the door creaked open, Emma stormed toward her bedroom—only to stop cold in the doorway. Her breath caught. Her chest tightened.

The lavender walls she had painted herself, the posters that mirrored her dreams, the DIY décor painstakingly assembled during countless restless nights—all of it was gone. The room had been gutted. The walls were now a bland, sterile beige. Shelves sat empty, and the cozy bedspread had been replaced by a generic factory-clean sheet.

“What the hell?” Her voice cracked as she stepped inside. “Mum!”

Her scream cut through the silence like a blade. “You can’t just erase everything! This is my room!”

Across the hall, Aiden stood at the threshold of his own room, just as stunned. “Where’s all my stuff?” he muttered, stepping in. His sneakers thudded softly against the bare floorboards. The clutter of childhood—comics, action figures, half-assembled model kits—had vanished.

Everything personal, gone.

In the master bedroom, Mr. and Mrs. Kinney sat in silence. Neither flinched at the noise echoing down the hall.

“They need a wake-up call,” Mr. Kinney said, voice like ice. “We’ve indulged them long enough. Digital addictions. Emotional theatrics. It ends now. They’re not children anymore.”

He stood and strode into Emma’s room without a word. Snatched her phone from her hands. Walked out.

Aiden’s confiscation followed moments later. No explanation. No discussion. Just silence.

—

Out on the street, Marcus walked alone. His thoughts were a mess of worry and restless energy. His steps eventually brought him to Eric’s house.

He stopped short when he saw Eric standing outside with two unfamiliar men by a beat-up sedan. One of them, tall with a hawkish nose, quickly tucked something under his jacket as Marcus approached.

The red-haired one jerked his chin. “Who’s this?”

Eric gave a nervous chuckle. “Relax. He’s cool. Marcus, didn’t know you were dropping by... but, uh, maybe you’ll wanna be part of this.”

Marcus slowed, instinct pulling him back. Before he could turn, the tall one grabbed his sleeve in a grip like steel.

“You’ve seen too much,” the man said, smiling thinly. “But that doesn’t mean you can’t benefit.”

He held up a small package, wrapped tight. “Warehouse on Simpson Street. Drop this off. You get a hundred per run. Simple. No questions, no cops. Sneakers, cash, girls—whatever you want. All within reach.”

Marcus’s gut screamed to walk away. But then came the taunts.

“Scared, kid?” sneered the redhead. “What, your mum still tucks you in?”

Marcus clenched his jaw. His pride burned hotter than his fear.

“I’ll do it,” he said through gritted teeth. “But I want to know what’s in the bag.”

The men exchanged a look. The redhead shrugged. “Later. First delivery is a test.”

Marcus snatched the bag and turned, his fists tight at his sides, his pulse pounding in his ears.

—

Back home, Emma hovered by the front door, the usual mischief in her eyes. “Hey! Just the man I was looking for,” she said with a grin. “Think you could spot me a little cash? I’m thinking... shopping therapy.”

She batted her lashes. Normally, it worked.

Today, Marcus brushed past her like she didn’t exist.

Emma blinked, her smile fading. “What the hell?” she whispered. “He’s never ignored me like that...”

Then she frowned, an idea forming. “Maybe I should start charging for chores. Four bucks to wash Dad’s car every morning? Not bad.”

—

Aiden’s school day dragged like cement. Exhausted, he nodded off during class and slammed face-first into his desk.

A loud smack jolted him awake.

“Aiden!” Mrs. Heffley barked. “Asleep again? That’s it—detention all week. You’ll be reporting to Mr. Ray after school.”

Aiden groaned. That wasn’t the plan.

The second the bell rang, he bolted out of the building.

But fate had other ideas.

He skidded to a stop in front of a decaying warehouse, his heart skipping when he spotted Marcus standing with a man who looked like a villain out of a noir film. Scarred arms, eye patch, cigarette drooping from his lip.

“Bro!” Aiden called, jogging over. “I see you around here all the time. What’s going on?”

Marcus turned. The cold in his eyes froze Aiden in place. He grabbed his brother by the collar, dragging him close.

“You shouldn’t be here,” Marcus hissed. “Go home. Right now. Don’t ever follow me again.”

Aiden stumbled back, stunned. His gaze dropped to Marcus’s wrist—a sleek, expensive watch gleamed in the sunlight.

That’s not normal.

—

Back at the Kinney house, Emma was folding laundry when Aiden burst into her room.

She raised an eyebrow. “What is it? You look like you saw a ghost.”

Aiden dropped onto the edge of her bed, breathing hard. “Have you noticed anything... weird about Marcus lately?”

Emma looked up, her expression serious. “Yes. Finally, someone said it. He’s been different—quiet, angry. Yesterday, I caught him counting stacks of cash. Like, thick stacks.”

Aiden nodded slowly. “He’s always near that warehouse. Today... I saw him with a guy who looked like he’d kill someone for fun.”

Emma’s pulse quickened. “We need to watch him. Something’s seriously off.”

They locked eyes, the rare silence between them filled with shared purpose.

For once, they were on the same side.

Aiden lingered, his gaze on the pale, empty walls around them.

Emma gave him a look. “You can leave now, you know.”

He stood, but a soft smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

Peace—however temporary—was something he wasn’t quite ready to let go of.