BULLSHIT VIEWS
The hangar, a relic of some forgotten industrial era, stood isolated on the outskirts of the city, shrouded in shadows. Dim, flickering lights barely illuminated the entrance.
We were close enough that I could smell the scent of motor oil and damp concrete in the air. We had trekked the last fifteen minutes on foot so as not to alert Mathias of our presence.
Dressed in all black, the group of men with me were hardly visible in the dark.
As I surveyed our surroundings, I counted the guards stationed strategically around the hangar. They were a formidable force, a visible show of Mathias's determination.
Their numbers seemed overwhelming, but I took solace in the quality of the men standing alongside me-Vlad, Schipper, Bruce, and Annabella's men were well-seasoned in battle.
Bruce pointed to my right and I nodded, moving in on the guard closest to me. I kept my footsteps light on purpose. Unsheating my switchblade, I loomed behind the unsuspecting guard.
The wind changed direction and he became aware of my presence. Before he could react, my blade was at his throat. The cut was clean, deep, and efficient.
His limbs surrendered to all the dead weight and he dropped at my feet like a puppet with its strings cut.
Around me, more guards were dropping like flies as we closed in on the hangar. Bruce worked fast and quietly. Vlad was more calculated but just as lethal. Schipper moved like an arrow through water, slow but precise. He never missed a target.
When we thought we were through with the guards on the outside, bullets rained down from above. One of Annabella's men took a hit, his shout of agony loud in the quiet night. His shout was followed by Schipper's harrowing grunt.
With my survival instincts on high, I ran toward the large metal roll-up door of the hanger. A train of bullets chased me, hitting the concrete floor like asteroids, narrowly missing my legs and toes. As soon as I was plastered against the door, the bullets stopped.
I scanned my surroundings. Vlad, Schipper, and Bruce were nowhere to be found. Rain started falling, hard and unyielding, shrouding the deserted landscape in a sea of white.
"Shit," I cursed under my breath as my clothes got wet.
The only good thing about this was that whoever was shooting at us could no longer see shit in the sudden downpour.
I stood for a minute, waiting to see if any of my men turned up.
Nothing.
They knew the plan, so I carried on, turning the doorknob on the door next to the metal shutter. To my surprise, it swung open.
An old seaplane sat in the center of the large open space, reminding me of the days when our family used to smuggle drugs and tobacco by plane. The scent of aviation fuel lingered in the air, despite it being years since the plane was last used.
To the left, a rusty metal staircase spiraled downward. I withdrew my gun and my black boots echoed my descent with every step I took.
I ended up in a short hallway lit with fluorescent lamps. There was only one door. Strange.
However, when I opened that door, there were two. The first one was locked. Desperate to find Carla and feeling like I was running out of time, I tugged on the second knob. The door didn't budge.
"Mathias!" I called. "I know you're here. Show yourself and bring my wife. Alive."
Silence. Nothing but fucking silence.
Aunt Elena said she was certain Mathias was here, so I persisted. "If you harmed Carla in any way, I will fucking kill you, asshole."
After a long pause, the second door swung open.
"Dante," Mathias greeted with a nod that carried the weight of unspoken grievances. The air thickened as I faced the man who had once been a mentor. His presence oozed authority but with an ominous undercurrent. "I was expecting you."
Our gazes locked. I couldn't believe this was the same man who used to take me and my cousin, Mateo, to football classes and then taught us how to shoot a gun all in the name of legacy and protecting our family.
"Where's my wife?" I demanded.
"She's not doing well I'm afraid."
At hearing those words, I lost it. I launched forward without a plan, without any precision. The butt of my gun met my uncle's smug face, distorting it. I followed that with a punch.
He staggered and took several steps back into the room. I stalked after him, ignoring my throbbing knuckles. Before I could grab onto his collar, I felt the distinct cold barrel of a gun pressed against the base of my head.
I froze.
"Drop it," a voice that sounded familiar said.
When I hesitated, the gun dug deeper into the base of my skull. Thinking about Carla, I dropped the gun.
A hard nudge to the back of the head forced me forward into the room. I stopped suddenly when I stumbled across the lifeless body of a woman hooked to chains.
For a moment, the world stopped spinning. My breath rooted itself like a tree in my chest. A random vein in my temple started pounding incessantly. My heart followed the same beat.
I took a closer look at the woman and exhaled sharply. The mass of brunette hair couldn't hide Eva's rounded face. Her eyes were open, her lips parted. She stared blankly across the room toward the door, as if she had died thinking about her escape.
My body shook as tears filled my eyes. Carla was going to be devastated.
Mourning turned into rage. "Why?" My voice sounded dangerously low.
Mathias half smiled. "Because I want to erase every trace of your wife from your life. Soon I'll get rid of her mother for good. Her father? Well, you know the story. Poor Eva here..." He stopped and pointed at the body. "Collateral damage."
"Why?" I asked again.
"You know why, son."
"I'm not your son."
"No, no you're not. Mateo would have had the balls to step up to the plate. He understood the meaning of legacy. The sacrifices our family had to make to get where we are today."
"And where is that?" I demanded. "Killing innocent people? Selling deadly drugs to young kids who don't know better? Is that your legacy, Mathias?"
The man looked thoughtful for a moment. "Not mine, I don't have any sons. My legacy died with Mateo. Thanks to you. Your father refuses to be honest with you, but we cannot allow anyone but a level-headed Caneos to take over the clan."
"Annabella is doing just fine. I don't see a problem here."
Mathias's eyes sparked with heat. "She's not a man. And if she ever marries, her children won't carry her last name."
"Look, I didn't come here to indulge your chauvinistic, patriarchal bullshit views. Where the hell is my wife?"
"Your wife is a distraction. A useless distraction. Why hasn't she given you a child?" He scratched his beard. "I know how much you wanted to have children. You should marry someone familiar with the clan. Someone who understands their role as a wife. A wife who listens to her husband and doesn't have a say in his future as the Galician clan boss."
My nostrils flared. "Does Aunty Elena always do as you ask?"
"Always."
"You're a fool to believe that. If my mother taught me one thing, it's that women hold their own power. 'I love your father, but I will never forget that I am also strong,' she'd say. 'I will always do what's right for me. I will never bend to someone else's rules if it doesn't benefit me. A good man will respect your fire, not try to extinguish it.'"
"Ah, Dalia thought she was so smart, but you're forgetting that your father made her, turned her into his perfect mafia wife." Mathias took a bunch of keys out of his pocket. "Your mother was a church girl before she met my brother. She knew nothing about our world. She died while cleaning one of the crack houses. How is that powerful?"
Inside of me, fury and sorrow fought for the upper hand. "You can mock my mother all you want, Mathias, but she taught me more about strength than you ever will. She may have started as a church girl, but she became a force in her own right. She had integrity, and that's a strength you clearly lack."
"The Galician clan wasn't built on integrity. It took blood, sweat, and tears, boy."
"I am not your boy," I said menacingly. "The last man who called me a boy was Santiago and things didn't end well for him. My wife, who you think is weak, killed him."
Mathias laugh. "Good to know. If she wasn't weak before, she sure is now." He glanced at the man behind me, whose face I still hadn't seen. "Eli, take Dante to his wife."
"Right away, Mathias." The man behind me moved to take the keys from Mathias, his face coming into view.
Eli?
Mother fucking Eli? Carla's friend?
~|~
R.I.P. Eva 😭