2025-03-25 06:06:56At Mexico City Safe House – 1:00 A.M.
The room was dimly lit, the only source of light a single lamp casting long shadows against the concrete walls. The safe house wasn’t much—just a temporary hideout where they could regroup before heading into enemy territory.
Ethan stood near the window, peering through the half-closed blinds at the empty street below. Every instinct in his body screamed that this was a trap.
Leo sat on the couch, absentmindedly flipping a knife between his fingers. “So… what’s the over-under on Sofia selling us out before we even step foot inside that compound?”
Ethan didn’t turn around. “Fifty-fifty.”
Leo smirked. “That generous, huh?”
Viktor leaned against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. “She’s not stupid. If she wanted you dead, she could have arranged it the moment you walked into that club.”
Ethan finally turned. “Maybe. Or maybe she’s waiting for the right moment to hand us over to Vasquez herself.”
Viktor chuckled. “You really are a paranoid bastard.”
Ethan didn’t smile. Paranoia kept him alive.
Leo twirled the knife before stabbing it into the wooden coffee table. “So what’s the plan? We just walk in there and hope she’s actually on our side?”
Ethan exhaled slowly, running a hand through his hair. “No. We prepare for both outcomes.”
Leo leaned forward. “Meaning?”
Ethan’s voice was steel. “We assume she’s lying.”
At the La Fortaleza – The Cartel’s Stronghold – 11:30 P.M.
The black SUV pulled up to the gated entrance of La Fortaleza, the massive iron gates standing as a silent warning. This wasn’t just a compound—it was a fortress.
Armed guards patrolled the perimeter, their rifles glinting under the floodlights. The entire estate was surrounded by ten-foot-high walls, and beyond that, security cameras, motion sensors, and trip alarms.
Sofia sat between Ethan and Leo in the back seat, looking unbothered as she applied a fresh coat of lipstick. She caught Ethan’s gaze in the reflection of the mirror and smirked.
“Nervous?” she teased.
Ethan didn’t answer.
Sofia chuckled. “Relax. I told Vasquez you’re interested in business. He’s expecting you.”
Leo muttered under his breath, “Yeah, expecting to shoot us in the face.”
The driver rolled down the window, handing the guards a small card. The man on the other side scanned it, then nodded. With a buzz, the iron gates groaned open.
The SUV rolled forward, entering the lion’s den.
Inside La Fortaleza
The estate was even bigger than Ethan expected.
A massive villa stood in the center of the property, its exterior adorned with white marble columns and high-arched windows. Luxury cars lined the circular driveway, and inside, dozens of cartel elites mingled, sipping expensive liquor and whispering in hushed conversations.
Sofia led the way, her confidence unwavering as she guided them through the grand entrance.
Ethan’s eyes scanned the room, mapping every exit, every security detail.
Too many men. Too many guns.
Leo kept close, muttering, “This feels like walking into a meat grinder.”
Ethan’s jaw tightened. He agreed.
Vasquez wasn’t here yet. That meant they had time—time to get what they needed and get out.
But something felt… off.
Then Ethan saw them—three armed guards posted at the balcony above, eyes locked on him.
Leo followed his gaze. “Yeah, that’s not good.”
Sofia smiled as if nothing was wrong. Too calm.
Ethan clenched his fists. Was this the moment she betrayed them?
Then she turned slightly, speaking so only he could hear.
“Relax,” she whispered. “You’re not the only ones taking a risk tonight.”
Ethan narrowed his eyes.
Before he could respond, a voice boomed from across the room.
“Welcome to my home.”
Marco Vasquez – The Devil Himself
Marco Vasquez stepped into view, dressed in a black suit, his presence demanding attention. He was in his early fifties, his dark hair streaked with silver, his face worn with the marks of a man who had killed more than he could count.
A cold smile stretched across his lips. A predator’s smile.
Ethan felt the weight of Vasquez’s gaze land on him, assessing, calculating.
Sofia stepped forward, her voice smooth. “Marco, meet Ethan Drake and Leo Carter. They’re businessmen from Monaco, looking for new ventures.”
Vasquez tilted his head. “Is that so?”
Ethan forced an easy smile. “Mexico is an emerging market, after all.”
Vasquez chuckled, stepping closer. Too close.
“You must be very brave,” Vasquez murmured, “to do business in my world.”
Ethan didn’t blink. “Bravery and stupidity are often confused.”
Vasquez laughed, clapping a hand on Ethan’s shoulder. “I like you.”
Then his grip tightened.
Too tight.
“You don’t look like a businessman,” Vasquez said softly.
Ethan held his gaze. “Looks can be deceiving.”
A long, tense silence stretched between them.
Then Vasquez grinned and released him. “Come. Let’s talk.”
Vasquez led them into a lavish office, pouring himself a glass of whiskey before offering them the same.
Ethan took the glass but didn’t drink.
Vasquez settled into his chair, tapping his fingers against the polished wood. “I assume you’re here for more than just investment opportunities.”
Ethan leaned forward slightly. “We’re here for something lucrative.”
Vasquez chuckled. “I have plenty of lucrative ventures.”
Ethan met his gaze. “We’re looking for something… off the books.”
Vasquez’s eyes darkened slightly. “Go on.”
Ethan exhaled, choosing his words carefully. One wrong move, and this was over.
“I have clients who prefer transactions that… avoid unnecessary scrutiny,” Ethan said smoothly.
Vasquez studied him. “You mean laundering.”
Ethan smirked. “If that’s the term you prefer.”
Vasquez took a slow sip of his drink. “And why should I trust you?”
Ethan reached into his jacket, pulling out a black flash drive. He slid it across the table.
Vasquez arched a brow.
“Proof,” Ethan said. “Financial records. Large sums moving through our network—clean, untraceable.”
Vasquez picked up the drive, spinning it between his fingers. “Impressive.”
Ethan leaned back. “If you like what you see, we can talk percentages.”
Vasquez smirked. “I think we’re going to get along just fine.”
Step one—complete.
Now, they just had to stay alive long enough for step two.
Just as the conversation shifted, a sharp knock echoed at the door.
A guard entered, murmuring something into Vasquez’s ear.
The cartel boss’s face darkened.
Then—he turned back to Ethan, his smile gone.
“It seems you’re not who you claim to be.”
Ethan’s blood ran cold.
Leo tensed beside him.
Sofia’s expression didn’t change. Had she set them up?
Vasquez leaned forward. “Tell me, Ethan Drake—who sent you?”
Ethan’s mind raced. They were seconds away from a bullet in the head.
Then—Sofia moved.
With lightning speed, she grabbed the guard’s gun, firing two shots.
Chaos erupted.
Leo flipped the table, using it as cover as bullets tore through the room.
Ethan tackled Vasquez, slamming his head against the desk.
Sofia shouted, “We have to move—NOW!”
Vasquez groaned, reaching for a hidden weapon—
Ethan didn’t hesitate.
One gunshot.
Vasquez collapsed, blood pooling beneath him.
Leo grabbed Ethan. “We gotta go!”
Alarms blared.
Guards stormed in.
They had minutes—maybe seconds—to escape.
And the real fight had just begun.
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The wind shrieked through the shattered corridor of the Citadel’s lower sanctum, pulling fine ash and data fragments into ghostly spirals. Ethan Cross moved fast, pulse high but controlled, weapon at the ready. Behind him, Mira’s footsteps echoed faintly in the hollow quiet, a contrast to the storm of static crackling through their comms.“Signal’s dead past the firewall breach,” Mira said, lifting her scanner. “We’re on our own.”Ethan didn’t answer immediately. He scanned the hall ahead, where the Dominion’s core algorithm—broken and incomplete—had once governed its sentient logic infrastructure. The crystalline mainframe lay dormant, its translucent surfaces spiderwebbed with cracks. The entire chamber pulsed with the afterbirth of something old and angry, like an intelligence robbed of its purpose.“This place shouldn’t exist,”
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