Chapter 3 - The Ghost of Elena
The drive to the distillery district was a blur of neon lights and rain-slicked asphalt.
I sat in the back of the armored sedan,
holding the silver wolf ring against my lips.
I remembered the night I gave the bracelet to Elena,
the way the wind had caught her hair on the balcony.
She had been so afraid of my world,
so desperate for us to run away to a place where names didn't matter.
I had promised her safety,
and instead,
I had given her a grave.
Or so I thought.
The realization that she had been alive all this time,
suffering under Ricardo's thumb,
made my blood feel like acid in my veins.
How had she survived the blast?
How had she kept Sofia safe in a world of wolves?
Sofia.
The name tasted like sweetness and sorrow on my tongue.
She looked so much like her mother,
yet she had my eyes,
that piercing,
unyielding gaze that saw through the darkness.
"We're three minutes out,
Boss,"
Marco said from the front seat.
"The perimeter is crawling with Vasquez's hitters."
"They’re expecting us."
"Good,"
I replied,
loading a fresh magazine into my weapon.
"I want them to see me coming."
"I want them to know that the Devil has finally come for his due."
The sedan screeched to a halt in front of a rusted iron gate.
Before the car had even fully stopped,
the doors flew open.
My men poured out,
a disciplined wave of black silk and hot lead.
The air exploded with the sound of gunfire,
the rhythmic chatter of suppressed rifles filling the night.
I walked through the chaos as if I were invisible,
my targets falling before they could even scream.
I wasn't just a boss tonight;
I was a force of nature.
We breached the main doors of the distillery,
the smell of fermented grain and dust hitting us like a wall.
"Spread out,"
I ordered,
gesturing to the left and right.
"Check every room,"
"every basement,"
"every shadow."
I headed for the stairs,
knowing instinctively that Ricardo wouldn't be hiding in the dark.
He was a man of ego;
he would be at the highest point,
watching his kingdom crumble.
As I reached the second floor,
a man jumped from behind a stack of crates,
a jagged knife flashing in the dim light.
I caught his wrist,
snapping the bone with a sickening pop,
and drove my own blade into his throat.
He gasped,
his blood spraying across my shirt,
but I didn't feel anything.
The only thing that mattered was the woman at the end of the hall.
The only thing that mattered was the family I had been denied.
"Elena!"
I roared,
May you like
my voice echoing through the hollow building.
"I'm coming for you!"
