Chapter 5 - The Confrontation at TapalpaNight fell heavy and dark over the pine forests surrounding Tapalpa. Rain drizzled continuously, turning the dirt tracks leading to the abandoned timber yard into a thick, muddy slurry.
Tomás arrived in his BMW, his hands shaking so violently on the steering wheel that he could barely keep the vehicle straight. His eyes were bloodshot, his hair unkempt, and his expensive suit crumpled and stained with sweat. On the passenger seat rested a leather briefcase stuffed with hard drives, forged deeds, and financial statements—everything he had used to construct his elaborate illusion of wealth and power.
He pulled up inside the rotting wooden structure of the old sawmill. The headlights illuminated a single figure standing near a massive diesel generator: Uncle Julián, wearing a dark raincoat, looking completely calm amidst the storm.
Tomás practically hurled himself out of the car, clutching the briefcase against his chest.
“I brought everything!” Tomás yelled over the sound of the rain pounding against the rusty corrugated metal roof. “The deeds, the forged powers of attorney, the bank tokens! I signed the full release forms for Mariana’s mother! She’s clear! They can’t touch her house!”
Julián stepped forward, his boots crunching on the wet gravel. He took the briefcase from Tomás’s trembling hands, opened it, and briefly scanned the documents under the glow of a flashlight.
“Good,” Julián said quietly. “You’ve restored what you stole from my sister.”
“Now call them!” Tomás begged, collapsing onto his knees in the mud, grabbing the hem of Julián’s coat. “Call the syndicate leaders! Tell them you have the cargo back! Tell them the money is secured! They gave me until midnight, Julián! Please, I’m begging you!”
Julián looked down at the man whimpering at his feet. This was the same coward who had spent two years striking a defenseless woman behind closed doors, who had threatened to make her family think she was insane, who had built his entire ego on crushing her spirit.
“Stand up, Tomás,” Julián commanded.
Tomás scrambled to his feet, wiping rain and tears from his face. “Are you calling them?”
“I don't need to call them,” Julián said calmly, stepping aside. “They’re already here.”
From the shadows behind the towering piles of timber, two heavy black SUVs rolled forward without their lights on, coming to a halt just feet away. The doors opened simultaneously, and four tall men in tactical coats stepped out into the rain.
Tomás’s face turned ghastly white. His heart slammed against his ribs as he recognized the lead enforcer—a man known in the underworld simply as El Hacha.
May you like
“Julián... what did you do?” Tomás gasped, backing away in terror. “What did you do?!”
“I didn't call them to negotiate your freedom, Tomás,” Julián said, his voice as unyielding as iron. “I called them to settle the account.”
