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๐‚๐ก๐š๐ฉ๐ญ๐ž๐ซ 38 : ๐ˆ๐ง๐ญ๐ž๐ซ๐ง๐š๐ฅ ๐‚๐ฅ๐ž๐š๐ง-๐ฎ๐ฉ............

last update Last Updated: 2025-09-24 19:58:21

๐Œ๐š๐Ÿ๐ข๐š'๐ฌ ๐๐ž๐ฆ๐ž๐ฌ๐ข๐ฌ***

โ€œPage twenty-threeโ€”signed by โ€˜M,โ€™โ€ Antonio tapped a page in the ledger. Voice outrightly composed.

โ€œShipment through Matamoros. You owed me thirty on arrival, but you wired twenty-five.โ€

Victor and Cesar bent over, staring at their own ledgerโ€”a thick, grimy book with handwritten entries, inked in red and black.

โ€œShipment 0131-L. We received twenty-five of that orderโ€”nothing more.โ€ Victor jabbed their page, while Cesar nodded in rhythm.

โ€œWhat do you mean?โ€ Antonio curled a brow in confusion.

He skeptically cross-checked his ledger, and tilted his head in disapproval.

โ€œThis book is my Bibleโ€ he taps on the open page, eyeing them squarely.

โ€œWhatever is in itโ€ฆis my commitment. Crossed number means paid. Blank space means debtโ€”someone still owes. Five crates are blank.โ€

Kiktorโ€”Victor Loa's Consigliereโ€”leaned forward, and accessed Antonio's ledger.

โ€œBossโ€ he called Victorโ€”accent unmistakable. Arabic.

Victor Loa cocked an eye at him and he continued.

โ€œMedinaโ€™s house record, hints thirty. But thenโ€”anonymous five. We never got five crates.โ€

โ€œThatโ€™s what weโ€™re sayingโ€”an internal screw-upโ€ Victor growled.

โ€œYou know how the game goes, just write the shit offโ€”.โ€ he was now referring to Antonio

โ€œThatโ€™s charityโ€ Antonio forbears the demand. โ€œIf I wanted to f*ck around, Iโ€™d just manage hotels.โ€

His once measured voice drops an octave, cold and flat.

โ€œThirty crates left my hands. Full. Tagged. You received twenty-five. Not my problem if five grew legs and walked offโ€”Your losses arenโ€™t my write-offs.โ€

โ€œBruno (Enforcer)โ€ฆ we ainโ€™t trying to rip you,โ€ Cesar wheedled, voice low but too slick. โ€œWe just want the numbers to reflect what actually got to usโ€”moreover five crates is nothing, comeโ€”.โ€

โ€œOver fifty million in merchandise?โ€ Antonio countered calmly. โ€œIโ€™m sorry partner, but thereโ€™s a workaround hereโ€ฆand that, I can't give in to.โ€

The steel door opened. Rafael Mendez enteredโ€”sleek suit, tie ironed.

โ€œGood-evening, Gentlemen,โ€ he rasped in englishโ€”his breath a mix of hazelnut and whiskey.

โ€œSorry Iโ€™m lateโ€”I encountered some delay at the entrance.โ€

Silence followed his excuse.

Reputed in their world for his lateness, yet the most efficient among lawyers.

Getting no response or rebuke, just as it always used to be, He laid out his briefcase on the table.

A few papers slid out, and he arranged them, setting aside a new draft contract.

โ€œSoโ€”are we balancing?โ€ he asked.

โ€œMendezโ€”I want the ledger from the last transactionโ€. Antonio's gaze ignited, lethal.

Without wasting a beat, Rafael pulled out a folded chartโ€”polish and official-looking.

Then he singled out a wax-stamped export manifesto, from the previous transaction.

โ€œDidn't the old deal closeโ€”โ€.

โ€œCross-check the two accounts with yours. Let's see who owes who?โ€ Antonio interjected, sliding his own ledger forward.

Rafael Mendez adjusted his glasses, finger hovering over the now three ledgers.

Scribbles, alias names, offshore dump points, he checked everything.

โ€œThirty crates actually did moveโ€ he concurred, tapping the margin with a pen. โ€œBut they seem to have gotten only twenty-five. And since customs didnโ€™t flag itโ€”the shortfall actually comes off the client.โ€

โ€œThat is itโ€”no more debates,โ€ Antonio throated, lighting tobacco.

โ€œGentlemen! You want the next batch? Forty cratesโ€”mixed arms, including six prototypes I shouldnโ€™t even have. You settle last month, not in words but cash. Elseโ€”โ€

โ€œElse, what?โ€

Victor Loa challenged with furrowed brow.

โ€œElseโ€”else we wonโ€™t move a single box.โ€ Antonio tapped a knuckle against the table. Rage.

Cesar sucked in air through his teeth. Jaw ticking.

โ€œThe offloaders mustโ€™ve taken their cutโ€”what do they normally call it ?โ€

โ€œNeighborhood tax.โ€ Cardoza chimed in.

โ€œYesโ€”exactly.โ€ Cesar snapped his fingers. โ€œNeighborhood cut. They always take their percentage for every shipment that crosses the border.โ€

โ€œSeriously! Haven't heard about such, all my years in the business.โ€ Victor Loa ran a questioning gaze at Cesar Matรฉ.

โ€œIt started recentlyโ€”I forgot to mention itโ€

Kiktor rubbed his eyebrow, and stretchedโ€”outwardly bored. Refilling his glass, he went to the far end of the room, by the window, and settled.

Antonio smirked, boldly reading the meaning to Kiktorโ€™s move.

โ€œListen up, I donโ€™t give a damn about what your border boys tookโ€”or their meth habits.โ€ Smoke sizzled out his nostril like a broken exhaust pipe.

โ€œLike I said, I don't run a charityโ€”If you want new steel, you pay old debt, then I stamp this new deal. Simple, I donโ€™t feed border cutsโ€

Victor Loa flipped through the last three pages of their ledger, teeth bare.

He couldn't bring himself to pay for goods he didn't receive.

โ€œI disagree.โ€ He snapped, slamming the ledger shut. โ€œWe canโ€™t strike new orders if the missing ones can't be struck out.โ€

Antonio tilted his head with a lopsided grin โ€œThen donโ€™t.โ€

Victor signaled Cesar. They rose to leaveโ€”but Antonioโ€™s threat froze them mid-step.

โ€œBefore anything, Gentlemen, we balance the books, or I start erasing names from this world, and the next.โ€

The men paused.

โ€œYou wouldn't dare,โ€ Victor sneered.

โ€œIs it a dare?โ€ Antonioโ€™s grin came out slow, dangerous.

His lips moving silently, before a single question dropped icilyโ€”

โ€œShoot!โ€

A red pointer emerged on Victor's forehead. The next second, the sound of a bullet broke in, through the window.

Kiktor shoved his Boss {Victor Loa}, and they both landed on the floor.

โ€œHoly sh*t!โ€ Victor cussed, edging murderous glare at Antonioโ€”Kiktor already drew his gun, pointing.

โ€œCapo mio, youโ€™re playing a foolish game. Lucas wouldn't dare go this far.โ€ Cesar Matรฉ barked.

โ€œThat's why he appointed meโ€”I play Mafia better,โ€ Antonio grinned, cocking his eyes at the gun Kiktor had on him.

โ€œHandle with careโ€”else I show you how to use emโ€

Victor gave Kiktor a nod and he put away the gun.

โ€œThis is what you call a temperโ€”how come you're not Italian?โ€ Light laughter rippled from Cesar.

Fake, just enough to avoid insult and conceal his fear.

โ€œGentlemen..please. Sitโ€ Antonio urged, adjusting his tie which was slung over the shoulder like a napkin at a butcherโ€™s counter.

Without argument, they returned to their seats. Kiktor & Cardozaโ€™s alertness now at paramount.

โ€œWhat the hell is this?โ€ Cesar queried as Antonio slid forward an envelope.

โ€œOpen it.โ€

Enraged Victor tore the envelope open, scanned the note, then passed it to Cesar. Eyes darting back to Antonio.

โ€œShipment manifest?โ€

โ€œNoโ€”rather a gift. For old times sake.โ€ Antonio corrected.

โ€œNow, that's client privilege,โ€ Rafael smiled thinly.

Just as Antonio could highlight the new tip, the steel door creaked open.

Elian, one of his soldiers {errand boy}, stepped inโ€”young, leanly built and a teardrop tattoo.

He walked straight to him, bent low, and whispered.

โ€œGod damnit!โ€ Antonio muttered a cuss. โ€œYou sure?โ€

Elian nodded.

โ€œExcuse me Seรฑores,โ€ Antonio rose.

Cesar Matรฉ lifted his chin. โ€œAny problem?โ€

Antonio blinked once, brushing off the question. โ€œBack in a beat.โ€

Without waiting for interrogation, He turned and walked briskly after Elian, steps echoing sharper.

In his office. He just stared down at the lot.

Five Police vans littered the premises with their barrage of colours.

Uninformed men already escorting people outโ€”no shouting. Just ghostlike glints of extraction.

โ€œAny warrant ?โ€ Antonio asked.

Elian, the only person in the room with him, responded.

โ€œYeahโ€”explosive likeโ€.

Antonio nodded curtly. He opened his drawer, retrieving his phone.

Dialing a number, he held it over his ear. โ€œCall your men offโ€.

โ€œWhy ?โ€

โ€œThey are sabotaging my business flowโ€”wait,โ€ He pulled the phone away from his ear, glancing at the ID. Commissionerโ€™s number.

โ€œBreanna?โ€

โ€œSurprise!โ€ Breannaโ€™s voice lilted, mocking.

โ€œYouโ€™ve grown smarter.โ€ Antonio chuckled dryly.

โ€œWhat choice do I have? Iโ€™m dealing with Blade Knuckles.โ€

โ€œImpressiveโ€”Hmmโ€

His growl rumbled low, while his fingers flew over the laptop, searching surveillance feeds.

โ€œDonโ€™t bother, a*shole,โ€ Breanna cut in, insouciantlyโ€”as if she saw him.

โ€œKeep Victor Loa and Cesar Matรฉ calmโ€”Iโ€™m coming in to pick themโ€

Antonio's fingers paused mid-air, but he didn't let his frigidity slip.

โ€œWho are they?โ€ He countered, his eerie baritone voice doing the mask.

โ€œTwo minutesโ€”just two more minutes and believe me, you will know themโ€ Breanna swore.

He hung up on her, jaw clenching ferventlyโ€”anger boiling over like hot lava.โ€

> ยฟPor quรฉ estรก tan ansiosa por morir?{Why is she so eager to die?}.

His gaze snapped over his shoulder, toward the exit door.

โ€œSeal every entranceโ€. He ordered, striding away.

๐๐š๐œ๐ค ๐ข๐ง๐ฌ๐ข๐๐žโ€ฆCesar shifted restlessly after Rafael Mendez explained the manifesto.

โ€œI donโ€™t like this. We should just go.โ€

โ€œNo,โ€ Victor objected, now obsessed with Antonio's new contract.

โ€œIf we want to keep our territory under our thumb, then this is the only way. We can't afford his black book.โ€

Victor knew that deals of sort, cost fortunes, but Antonio is offering it without any form of alimony.

He looked at the sealed door, waiting for Antonio's return.

Cesar scowled. โ€œHow sure are you that he delivers?โ€

Victor exhaled. โ€œIf it were Lucas, Iโ€™d stake everything. But with the stunt he pulled now, that kid isnโ€™t an amateurโ€”โ€

โ€œEveryone pack upโ€”we move.โ€ Antonioโ€™s voice cut through.

He made straight for his ledger and seized it.

โ€œWhat happened?โ€ Cesar grunted.

โ€œInternal clean-up.โ€

โ€œI thought you said this space was cleanโ€ Victor narrowed slits.

โ€œI never said that it wasnโ€™t being watched.โ€ Antonio retorted, leading them through a galley corridor.

In the basement, engines purred. โ€œLetโ€™s finish this somewhere else.โ€

They all boarded the van, slipping into the driveway tunnel, leaving behind the chaos above.

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