Chapter 32: 𝖂𝖎𝖑𝖑 𝖞𝖔𝖚 𝖗𝖊𝖒𝖊𝖒𝖇𝖊𝖗 𝖒𝖊 𝖆𝖋𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖙𝖍𝖎𝖘?

𝕸𝖆𝖋𝖎𝖆'𝖘 𝕹𝖊𝖒𝖊𝖘𝖎𝖘☆☆☆

“Sophia, this isn’t an actual raid,” Breanna said coolly, arms crossed, “It’s a calculated misdirection—a sting.”

Sophia stares at the red pin on La Sirena’s map, and tilts her head with quiet skepticism.

“No—It’s a gamble. A media circus waiting to happen.”

Breanna didn’t look at her immediately. Instead, she clicks to the next slide— a surveillance photo of two powerful arms runners, entering the hotel from a rear service alley.

Sophia stepped forward, lowering her voice.

“Isn't that Victor Loa and Cesar Maté—Organised Crime’s most-wanted mercenaries?”.

“Good thing you know” Breanna flexed, she walked past her to grab a folder from the table, tossing it open.

“They’re not in New Mexico for blackjack. These two are ghosts. Arms dealers—Antonio’s protecting them by taking them through the private rear door.”

“That's obviously a huge leap of logic” Sophia breathed out, her mind in disarray.

“You get it—If they’re inside La Sirena Hotel, he’s hosting something dirty. This is the closest we’ve come in months.”

“Semantics—It all makes sense now, you’re throwing a rock at the hotel window, hoping he flinches hard enough to look the other way.”

Breanna picks up a laser pointer, flicking it to the La Sirena Hotel on the board.

“That's the plan—we detonate his schedule at the hotel, by triggering his paranoia”.

“And what if he doesn’t take the bait? What then?”.

Breanna reaches out, squeezing Sophia’s forearm.

“Trust the tempo—be pessimistic. We control the first beat, he dances to the second.”

Sophia stays quiet for a moment, then sighed.

“I'm being pessimistic, but then there is probability cause—”

“Meaning?”

“If Mr Hunt is Blade Knuckles—like you suspected, then obviously he must have spent years building smoke and mirrors around his ace identity”

She paused scrutinizing Breanna's contenance,

“How sure are you that he will pull his muscle away from La Sirena, once we infiltrate?”

“He will” Breanna’s eyes flick with a glint of mischief.

“Brainbox trusts noise over silence—He’ll drag his whole security phalanx back to El Oro Casino, to protect the façade he lives for”

“Really?”

“The more public we make it look, the faster his errand boys run to plug it. He can’t afford the optics of a raid near his deal—he’ll hide. We use that.”

Sophia breathes in through her nose, exhaling once, a controlled steadiness hard-won after hours of conviction.

“Okay. Let’s say we do it your way. Who runs the decoy unit?”

“Ferdinando and Hall, plainclothes." Breanna laid out her strategy.

“We brief them to stay clean—minimum noise, just pressure and presence—enough to make Antonio think it’s about him.”

“And the real unit?” Sophia asked after a long pause. “You don’t even have the Casino's interior blueprints.”

“Me, and four from Organized Crime. About the blueprint—we take up the chatter from Organized Crime’s wiretap last week.”

Sophia exhales slowly and calculates. “You’re going in with four operators and a comms wiretap that’s never been field-tested?”

Breanna smirks slightly, tossing a comms earpiece onto the table.

“I know the stakes, but a blind spot near the count-room service hall, and an inside floor tech with ears on comms. That’s all we need—If he makes to sign any documents, we strike.”

Sophia braces on the edge of the table, eyes unreadable as she draws a mind picture of the deal table.

She gives Breanna a hard look—then nods slowly, finally grabbing her own radio and badge, off the table.

“Then I’m going in with you. Aide's are meant to share dangers with their Bosses, not only promotions”

Breanna was relieved, but she quickly masked it. “Good, we’ve got a case. Tonight, we get our proof.”

Sophia straightens, meeting her gaze—duty in face of storm.

“Tonight he’s going to see just how it feels, to be the marionette.”

“We extract from the office. Quiet and clean at 06:30 PM sharp.” Breanna Stewart marked, breath catching.

“I will clear my tables till then”, Sophia gave a curt nod and turned to leave.

“John?” Breanna's voice came behind her—thick and static. "Did you manage to get a hold of him?"

John—the only villager who’d describe Blade Knuckles' up close

Sophia released her grip on the door's handle and turned to face her.

“Not yet”.

“Damn it—try harder” Breanna urged in a quiet tone. “Remember... John's the only chance we have to salvage Antonio completely as Blade knuckles”.

“Yes ma'am”. With that she exited Breanna's office.

☆☆☆𝕺𝖚𝖙𝖘𝖎𝖉𝖊 𝕸𝖆𝖛𝖊𝖗𝖎𝖈𝖐 𝕳𝖔𝖘𝖕𝖎𝖙𝖆𝖑☆☆☆

♥︎Afternoon ♥︎4:32PM♥︎

The yellow taxi pulled away with a low rumble, the wind from its tires reeking of asphalt.

Junior stood on the sidewalk with Nevena, one hand holding his bucket of shell, the other trembling by his side.

His wheelchair sat just behind him, abandoned like it no longer belonged to him. He didn’t need it anymore—since he could walk very well.

Nevena held his bag to her chest, hugging it like it might hold the memory of their short adventure.

Neither of them had said anything since they boarded and got out of the cab.

The words were just heavy.

Right in front of them, the gray fence of the Hospital stretched to the end of the Street.

The afternoon sun casting shadows, on the carved bold letters of MAVERICK HOSPITAL. A stark reminder.

After some beats of seconds, Junior cleared his throat once, managing a breath.

“I guess this is goodbye,” the six-year-old said, blinking hard. He wasn’t looking at her. He was looking at the hospital name, trying not to crumble.

But his voice came out soft, almost crushed. “Nice meeting you—Miss Nevena. Sorry for putting you through so much trouble. I won't bother you from now henceforth”.

Nevena didn’t respond right away. She looked down at the boy beside her—skinny arms, serious eyes that had seen too much, too young.

His voice was too soft for someone who’d declared his stance, of never bothering her.

“Don’t say it like that, Junior—I never regretted it. I’m just taking you back. That’s all.”

“Yeah...you're right,” Junior sniffed, trying to hold it in.

He lifted the bucket of shell, his hand shaking.

“Will you remember me after this? Like actually remember?”

Nevena smiled, tearful. “Yes—every time I look at our pictures…”

She held up her polaroid, which they had captured memories with, that afternoon.

“You were obviously the best part of this whole damn tour,”

Junior gave a tiny nod, then looked down at his feet. “I will head in now”.

Nevena knelt beside him, her fingers brushing a curl from his forehead like a mother would—like his own hadn’t in weeks.

Slowly she wrapped her arms around him— one last time, her chin resting on his shoulder.

“Promise me something,” she murmured into his hair.

“What?”

“Don’t let her actions take the kid out of you. Continue being brave—but whine, when it's necessary. Okay?”

Junior nodded. Slowly. “Even if she doesn't show up... I will go ahead and make friends” he whispered,

“I’ll act my age—the world doesn't revolve around her after all”

The hospital doors hissed open in the background, and a security appeared at the entrance, throwing out trash.

Nevena pulled away, kissed his forehead, and quickly turned before the security could see her.

Understanding the assignment, Junior picked his bag, turned toward the garage—slow, hesitant. Then stopped.

“I will miss you Weirdo”.

Nevena now standing by the fence, laughed— broken and beautiful.

With eyes glistening with everything she didn’t have words for, she poked out of her hiding and waved at him.

Not wanting to be seen around, she flagged a cab.

“Souvenir Store”.

☆☆☆𝕳𝕼 𝕿𝖊𝖒𝖕𝖔𝖗𝖆𝖗𝖞 𝖘𝖎𝖙𝖊☆☆☆☆

♥︎5:43𝕻𝖒♥︎

The building was mostly quiet at this hour—Closing hour. Rain patters against the skylight above.

The humming fluorescent light overhead flickers, casting sharp shadows across the exiting staffs.

Breanna stands from her chair in her office, and strode to the tiny kitchenette tucked behind the main floor—her blazer slung off, sleeves rolled, jaw tight with exhaustion.

She opens the cabinet, pulls down a tin of espresso grounds.

She barely paid attention to the two junior agents, seated at a small table, on the other side of the partition wall— halfway through a game of cards and half-whispers, thinking they're alone.

She scooped three spoons of the instant black coffee into a chipped ceramic mug, and brewed it with hot water—no cream, no sugar.

Just caffeine and silence.

“You know who they wheeled into Eden Hospital today ?”, One of the men spoke in an amused tone.

The other agent leaned in closer with a grin, “No—you tell me”

“Of-course—” the first voice chuckled, slapping the second man's chest. “Grinch!—he got wheeled in Eden. Heard it to be bullet shot”

Breanna’s fingers stop mid-stir, the spoon clinking once against the mug.