𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 74: 𝐋𝐨𝐚𝐝 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐂𝐚𝐫

𝐌𝐚𝐟𝐢𝐚'𝐬 𝐍𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐬°°°

Antonio cracked a blow against his jaw with the kind of force meant to silence, not warn.

The room turned hollow. No one breathed.

Grinch staggered a step, and his reflex muscles relieved its grip on Antonio's lapel.

“You were never appointed to lecture or question me,” Antonio said quietly. “Remember your place.”

The latter wiped a smear of blood from the corner of his mouth, exhaled hard through his teeth. “De todas las razones para perder el filo… escoges a una mujer. {Of all the reasons to lose your edge… you choose a woman}”

A slow, wrenching guilt washed over Antonio but it was already late.

Grinch exhaled through his teeth as though he’d been counting the seconds, “Sombra Azul Sundance Eve is tomorrow. John is coming back.”

“And you waited this long to say it?” Antonio demanded.

Grinch didn’t react. “Breanna’s people already caught scent and She’ll tear through your walls with his information”

Without waiting to be dismissed, he turned and walked out.

Seconds later, everyone heard a car's engine roar and zoom off the precinct.

Antonio stood motionless for a beat, then uncurled his fist, knuckles white.

“Get the cars operational— we’re intercepting John tomorrow.”

—--

The next morning, HQ buzzed with a heavy, taut energy —half anticipation, half exhaustion.

Detectives stalked the hallways with clipped strides, phones pressed to their ears, murmuring updates that all sounded the same.

“Perimeter sweep—do it again.”

Breanna walked through the chaos with a stride that suggested authority—

“All right, everyone” she announced, clapping her hands once, “Listen up”

The officers paused instantly, turning their attention to her.

“John surfaces at Sombra Azul this evening. We’re meeting him right at the pre-ceremony. No loose protocols”

“Ma’am!” Sophia jogged to her side, breath uneven. “Hold your strategy—there’s a chance Blade Knuckles will get wind of this.”

Breanna’s eyes hardened.

“Sophia. The only leak here is six feet under. Therefore we can operate without fear.”

She turned to the detectives and didn’t see any doubt aligning on their faces.

“Martinez is gone,” she continued, voice slicing through the tension.

“And I believe criminals have zero access to anything inside these walls now. Unless one of you has decided you want to be next.”

A ripple of objection rose—loud, defensive, unanimous, and she took it as an agreement.

“Good.” She nodded once, satisfied.

With a deep exhalation she continued into her office, confidence settling on her like a tailored coat.

Lowell overpowered Antonio’s eyes inside that train compartment—she kept reassuring herself.

—--

𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐎𝐍𝐈𝐎'𝐒 𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍

His men circled around the central strategy table, maps and markers scattered before them. They whispered updates, tension thick as they awaited order.

The stairwell creaked.

Antonio descended in a fresh black shirt, expression sharp and unreadable— zero trace of reluctance.

The men straightened the moment his boots hit the last step.

Except Grinch.

He continued cleaning his gun, piece by piece.

He didn’t rise nor look up. Zero acknowledgement for the presence of the man who ran their world.

“Status,” Antonio demanded, tracing Sombra Azul’s map on the table with a finger.

“The cars are ready,” the lead strategist answered carefully. “We marked three possible interception routes.”

“This is total shit.” Antonio tapped a point on the map with a sharp clack.

“Who planned this? And where the hell is Grinch?”

Silence.

“Grinch,” he called, sweeping the room with his gaze.

No answer.

Grinch slid the final piece of his dismantled gun back together with bored precision— so deliberate it felt like an insult.

Antonio’s jaw flexed, as his gaze caught him. “Strategizing is your job. Why is this handled so unprofessionally?”

Grinch holstered the gun, stood, and walked right past Antonio—shoulder brushing his like a deliberate challenge.

“I’m not part of your circus today,” he muttered without looking at him.

Antonio turned, stare lethal.

“You are part of this family,” he said, voice low and dangerous. “And no one dismisses my command. No one walks out on me.”

Grinch paused at the door, lips curling in cold amusement.

“Then strip me of my rank,” he said, still not turning.

“Because I’m not babysitting your emotional decisions anymore.”

Chairs scraped. A few men stepped back, unsure if they’d witness bloodshed.

“Walk out that door,” Antonio warned, voice dropping to something feral,

“and don’t come back unless you’re ready to explain yourself.”

Grinch stopped—hand on the doorknob.

Then he pushed it open and walked out.

Antonio inhaled once—controlled, icy.

“Very well.”

He turned back to the table, sliding a blade onto his knuckles with a soft, lethal click.

“If he won’t stand by me…” Antonio murmured,

“then he stands in my way.”

He lifted his chin. “Load the car.”