Chapter 15: HQ Is Under Attack.

Without wasting a second, Grinch reached for his hip holster, unbuckling his gun.

“El Grinch me encontró. No creo que necesites su fusca. {Grinch found me. I don’t think you’ll need to take his gat}”

Blade broke the oppressive tension as Grinch handed the gun to Lucas.

“Cat's meow! {Great!}”. Lucas’ coarse tone dropped.

His thumb slowly traced the edge of the gun, now in his possession.

“Grifter!{Con man!}, your noodle{head} got saved today.” He taunted Grinch with a devilish grin, handing back the gun.

Grinch dropped to his knees as he received the gun, a hint of relief in his tone.

“Le agradezco, Don, por su compasión {I thank you, Don, for your compassion}.”

Lucas pulled him up—into an embrace.

“Puede que la próxima vez no tengas tanta suerte {You might not be so lucky next time}.” He whispered, but the threat was loud and clear to Blade and Grinch.

Antonio blinked his eyes knowingly, because vouching for his Consigliere 'Grinch' was the only getaway from Lucas' wrath.

The atmosphere was still heavy with tension, when Grinch's phone buzzed, breaking the silence.

“Excuse me”

He placed the phone on his ear, and after some seconds, he slipped it back into his pocket.

Crouching beside Blade, he whispered something.

Lucas’s face contorted with confusion as Antonio stood up simultaneously with Grinch's whisper.

“What's wrong ?”

Blade and Grinch exchanged a glance—quick, deliberate, saying more than words could.

“I’ve got this, Father. Be rest assured.”

“I insist!”, Lucas growled.

With a slow menace exhale, Antonio adjusted his cufflinks.

“The coppers {Police} managed to get a sketch of me.”

“Carlos!”

Lucas called immediately after Blade finished.

“Yes Don”, Carlos acknowledged with a slight bow.

“Handle the Cooper's informant and—also the sketch”

“At your service, Don”.

Antonio sank back into his chair after Carlos left,

“I prefer getting my work done myself—how certain are you that Carlos will deliver?”.

“You are already stitched up”, Lucas explained, "Moreover, Carlos headed the Silk Road hit in your absence".

“That's pretty much the start”. Blade growled, slightly impressed.

After a few more discussions he rose and they left.

‿⁠‿‿‿

‿‿POLICE HQ, {Afternoon}‿‿

“What the hell is going on here?”.

That was Sophia's tone cutting through the corridor like glass.

Ahead, just outside Breanna’s office, two men in charcoal gray overalls worked methodically, fumigation tanks strapped to their backs like armor, while masks obscured their faces.

One of the men looked up but didn’t flinch, rather he straightened slowly, facing her—though the mask covered most of his face.

“Fumigation, ma’am,” he replied, his voice muffled behind his respirator.

“Pardon?”

Sophia's voice echoed down the hall, crisp and demanding.

The first man lifted his visor just enough to show his eyes—too calm.

“Routine fumigation. Madam Detective requested fumigation in this wing.”

“Madam Detective?” Sophia repeated coolly. “That’s odd. She’s not in today and she never mentioned it over the phone”

“She left instructions,” the second man chimed in, without looking up.

“Did she now—as her assistant that you are?” Sophia asked, her voice lowered an octave.

“Show me your IDs.”

The men paused, exchanging a glance that set every hair on her arms upright.

“Ma'am but—”.

“Let me see your IDs.” Sophia repeated, taking a slow step backward, lips thinning while her hands reached for her holster.

Carlos—the one who’d spoken first—slid a gloved hand into his pocket and pulled out his ID.

The second man hesitated, then slowly pulled out his laminated card.

Sophia snatched them, scrutinizing its content.

“Ma'am, I told you Detective Breanna signed off on—.”

“Shushhhh” Sophia stopped him with a hand on her lips.

With no further disruption, she checked the cards.They looked—normal.

Department seals, HQ clearance levels, even Breanna’s signature.

But then, her thumb paused on the corner of one card.

A subtle scratch mark—like it had been tampered with. But whining about it would seem paranoid.

With everything checked out—she handed them back the cards with mixed emotions.

“Alright—you can carry on, everything looks legit.”

Without another word, She walked forward, clutching the rolled-up sketch in her hand—evidence for Breanna’s eyes only.

Meanwhile, behind her the men resumed fumigating, but now with quicker, quieter movements—their nozzles releasing soft, steady hisses.

Glancing back at them once more, she gave a quick knock, out of habit, but then remembered that Breanna wasn't in.

With a low pitched hiss, she slotted in her card and twisted the knob, then she pushed open the door—stepping in cautiously.

Everything was intact, just the way Breanna left them yester-night.

However, her instincts stayed with suspicion as she made straight for Breanna's desk, leaving the door ajar.

It still didn't make sense. Breanna had a strict policy; no fumigation, cleaning or repair without her present.

She hated anyone touching her space unsupervised.

Sophia’s frown deepened as she remembered how Breanna lashed out on her once, for letting the cleaner into her office.

“I think I should give her a call—It’s so unlike her”.

She opened her dialer and scrolled through for Breanna's number.

“Something wrong, ma’am?”, a deep baritone voice caught her attention.

Sophia spun around, the call already ringing.

Slowly she removed the phone from her ear, her fingers curling tighter around the sketch she still held.

Carlos, the guy who spoke first, stood in front of the door now, unblinking, his visor fully down.

“I should ask you the same thing". Sophia retorted, unknown to her that Breanna had picked the call.

“We weren’t finished talking,” Carlos said quietly, his boots shuffling on linoleum as he stepped in.

“Not a step closer or I might shoot” Sophia warned, her hand fumbling through her empty waist holster.

“Looking for something?”, Carlos teased, flashing her hand gun to her face.

“Fuck!—how did it....” Sophia's eyes widened in confusion.

Carlos flash a smile that didn’t reach his eyes,

“Ay, no te mortifiques por eso, Slay Shamus.

Oh, don’t stress over that, Slay Shamus—just hand me the sketch”.

“Nunca{Never}”. Sophia swore, putting the sketch behind her.

“Really?” Carlos' eyes buckled, he observed adamant Sophia for about five seconds, then sighed.

“Alright then—but make sure to keep it close to your ashes”.

Turning, he walked away, his spine stiff as he shoved the door shut with a heavy thud, making the lock jam.

It only took the smell of gasoline, for realization to hit Sophia's head,

“What the hell—?”

She threw away the sketch and her phone, rushing to the door, but it was jammed.

In her moment of panic she made for Breanna's computer, switching on the surveillance system.

From the monitor, she saw hazy fog of gasoline curled from the nuzzle of the fumigation tanks, dancing and spreading through the corridor of Breanna's office.

Switching through the surveillance, she spotted the men, who by now had increased in number.

The hum of their equipment blended with the faint squeak of boots, steady and deliberate.

They inserted the gasoline nozzles into the main AC vent.

"Fire!", Sophia croaked, looking around for her phone.

Thin mist curled from the AC's, spreading through every corner of the building.

“Humph-huff”, one of the staff sniffed. "Gasoline is smelling".

The others noticed and immediately jumped into action, they first triggered the fire alarm and then set off to open all the locked cells, escorting the occupants to safety.

When Sophia found her phone, faint vapor was already snaking around her heels like mist in a graveyard.

It was only then that she noticed that Breanna picked the call for over eleven minutes.

“Sophia! Who's there with you?”, Breanna screamed for the umpteenth time.

“Ma'am,! HQ—” Sophia choked, the smell of the gas overwhelming her.

“Yes, what happened with HQ ?”, Breanna snapped, already on her feet.

“HQ is under attack, Blade Knuckles' boys want to burn it down”

“Damn it—call the fire service, I will be there”. Breanna instructed, already dashing out of Junior's room.

“Hello ma'am, I can't hear you”. Sophia chanted over and over again. “They locked me away in your office, Can you hear me”.

“Fuck” Breanna cussed, removing the phone from her ear due to the glitching and eerie sound.

She dialed Sophia's line but the connection was already off.

Without hesitation, her soles tapped rhythmically as she rushed down the escalator.

Meanwhile back at the HQ, Carlos clicked his lighter, seeing that the gasoline has spread ,

In just seconds, every corner was up in fire—signaling his boys, they got into their Van and zoomed off.