Page 22 of Born of Vengeance

During that time, Rafael cleaned his wounds with vodka, stitched a tear near his hip, and drank two cups of instant coffee so bitter it tasted like ash.

Milo barely spoke. His fingers danced over keys. Code flew across the screens. The room buzzed with electricity and tension.

Then Milo leaned back.

“Okay,” he said. “You’re not gonna like this.”

“Try me.”

“Valderrama’s not just running cargo. He’s sitting at the center of a network—cells across four countries. Legitimate businesses mixed with shell companies. He’s partnered with two senators in Brazil, one in Panama, and—this is the kicker—someone inside INTERPOL feeding him intel on transnational cases.”

Milo tapped one more folder. “There’s also this—private email chain buried in a company archive. Looks like an invite-only event.”

He brought it up on-screen: Reunión del Círculo.

“Cartel meeting,” Milo said. “Tonight. At the estate you marked. He’s not just entertaining guests. He’s hosting kings.”

Rafael’s jaw tensed.

“I’ve already been inside,” he said. “Now I’m going back.”

“Think about that,” Milo said. “You kill him now, and you might never find the rest.”

Rafael didn’t answer.

________________________________________

He stood slowly and walked to the far window. It was night now. The lights of Quito shimmered like stars spilled across the hills. Quiet. Peaceful. Deceptive.

He rested one hand on the frame and closed his eyes.

What would killing Valderrama do?

It would feel right.

It would feel like revenge.

It would feel like justice.

But would it stop the shipments?

Would it stop the next girl from being taken?

Would it stop the next father from burying his daughter in an unmarked grave?

________________________________________

Milo spoke behind him, quieter this time.

“You’re not just in a war anymore, Rafe. You’re in a system. You cut the head, ten more grow back. But if we leak this—if we hit the press, the agencies, the courts—”

“They’ll bury it,” Rafael said. “Seal it. Spin it. Or worse, pretend it doesn’t exist.”

“Maybe. Or maybe you go loud, go global, and let the world see the rot.”

Rafael stared out the window for a long time.

Then he said, without turning, “I want him dead. But I want the machine dead, too.”

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