Page 16 of Born of Vengeance

But he didn’t.

He couldn’t.

Not because he lacked the will.

But because he needed the web—the names, the routes, the full chain. Killing Valderrama now would be satisfaction. But not justice. It would cut the head off a hydra, and the rest of the beast would scatter into darkness.

He wanted the whole system to burn.

And something else—

That woman.

The one in the green dress.

Her warning hadn’t just saved him. It had also whispered that someone else was watching. Possibly protecting something. Or someone. If Rafael made a move tonight, he wouldn’t just kill a senator. He’d kill every lead.

So he left.

________________________________________

The ride back to Cartagena was silent. No lights. No questions.

He returned to the safehouse, stripped out of the suit, and connected the receiver to his rigged audio terminal. Static filled the room, then shaped itself into voices. Music. Laughter. Ambient noise.

Then—

“We’ll redirect the Venezuelan intake through Buenaventura,” said a voice.

“Too risky,” another replied.

“Not if we use the new cargo firm. The paperwork’s clean. I’ve got the customs boys on payroll.”

Then came Valderrama’s voice—smooth, confident, cold:

“No interruptions this time. I want full capacity by month’s end. No children under ten—they attract too much heat. And make sure the girls are prepped before transport. No bruises. We’re running out of useful product.”

There was a pause.

“And kill the driver. He’s talking too much.”

Rafael’s hands clenched slowly into fists.

He let the voices continue—recorded, cataloged, burned into his mind.

Then he shut the device off.

________________________________________

The room darkened.

The silence returned.

And the memory came with it.

________________________________________

That night.

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