Chapter 7 - The Viper’s NestThree thousand miles away, in a humid, heavily guarded compound nestled deep within the dense jungles outside Bogotá, Colombia, a woman was screaming at a metal door.
"Let me out of here! Do you know who my father is?! My father is Senator Thomas Ashworth! When he finds out you put me in this rat-hole, he’ll have the entire Colombian military bomb this compound into dust!"
Inside the damp, concrete-walled holding cell, Delphine Ashworth pounded her manicured fists against the reinforced steel door until her knuckles bled. Her expensive ivory suit was now ruined, stained with tropical mud and sweat, her platinum hair tangled into a rat's nest.
The slot at the bottom of the door slid open. A pair of heavy combat boots stopped outside, followed by the clinking of keys.
The heavy steel door swung inward, revealing Rafael Cortez. He was wearing a lightweight tactical vest over a black t-shirt, a cigar clamped firmly between his teeth, holding a clipboard in one hand.
"Shut up, Delphine," Rafael sighed, stepping into the cell and wrinkling his nose at the stench. "You’re giving the guards a headache. And trust me, these guys don't have the same patience I do."
Delphine scrambled backward, her eyes wide with unadulterated terror. "Rafael! Thank God! Matteo sent you to rescue me, right? He realized what a mistake he made! Tell him I’ll never bother that brat or that fat maid again—just get me out of this hellhole!"
Rafael pulled the cigar from his mouth, exhaling a thick cloud of gray smoke toward the concrete ceiling. He looked down at her with a look of profound pity mixed with absolute contempt.
"Rescue you?" Rafael chuckled. "Delphine, sweetheart, you’re not a hostage. You’re an investment."
"What are you talking about?"
"Two hours ago, Senator Thomas Ashworth officially resigned from the United States Senate," Rafael said casually, flipping a page on his clipboard. "Citing 'health reasons' and a sudden, inexplicable desire to spend more time cooperating with federal prosecutors regarding extensive tax fraud and racketeering charges."
Delphine’s jaw went slack. "That's... that's impossible. My father would never—"
"Your father didn't have a choice," Rafael interrupted, stepping closer and looming over her like a executioner. "Matteo sent the second half of the audit files to the Department of Justice. The moment Ashworth tried to make a phone call to the White House, the FBI froze all his accounts and slapped handcuffs on him during a live press conference."
"No..." Delphine whispered, sliding down the concrete wall until she sat in the dirt, clutching her head. "No, no, no... my life is over. Everything is gone."
"Oh, relax," Rafael grinned, tossing a small canvas sack of clothes onto her lap. "You’re not going to starve. Matteo is a merciful man. Once you finish working off your debt by scrubbing the compound’s latrines for the next ten years, we might even let you apply for a work visa."
Rafael turned on his heel, walking out of the cell and slamming the heavy steel door shut.
May you like
The deadbolt turned with a loud, final clank.
As the lock clicked into place, Delphine realized the horrifying truth: in the world of Matteo Vance, you didn't just lose. You vanished completely.
