Chapter 3 - The First BloodThe heavy steel cylinder caught Julian off guard, smashing into his shoulder and sending him stumbling backward against a stack of discarded tires.
“You son of a bitch!” Julian roared, drawing his pistol in a flash of black metal.
A muffled thud echoed as the suppressor-fitted barrel leveled right at Ramiro's chest. But before Julian could squeeze the trigger, Ramiro kicked a steel bucket of used motor oil across the floor. The dark, viscous liquid slicked the concrete precisely where Julian was trying to regain his footing.
Julian’s left boot slid out from under him. The gun went off with a sharp, muffled pfft, sending a bullet tearing through the corrugated tin roof of the garage, showering them in sparks and rainwater.
Crash!
Julian hit the ground hard, his head bouncing off the concrete edge of a hydraulic lift. The pistol skidded across the oily floor, sliding under a dismantled transmission block near the back wall.
Ramiro didn’t hesitate. He lunged forward, boots sliding through the grease, and brought his heavy work boot down squarely on Julian’s wrist, pinning his hand to the floor.
Julian screamed in pain, his face contorting with rage. “You’re a dead man! You hear me? The Vances will skin you alive! They’ll burn this entire block to the ground!”
“Shut up,” Ramiro hissed, grabbing a heavy length of industrial chain from a nearby hook and wrapping it rapidly around Julian’s torso and arms, binding him tight against the base of the hydraulic lift. He pulled the links taut, locking them with a heavy brass padlock he kept in his pocket.
Julian thrashed like a trapped animal, spitting curses and blood from a split lip. “You don't know what you've unleashed, mechanic! The girl is carrying something far more valuable than you can possibly imagine. A ledger. A flash drive. Proof of what your precious Clara really stole from us before she died!”
Ramiro froze mid-motion. The chain slipped from his fingers.
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“What did you say?” Ramiro demanded, grabbing Julian by the collar of his black jacket and hauling his head up off the floor. “What did you say about Clara?”
Julian grinned, blood staining his teeth. “Oh... did you think she was still hiding out somewhere? Did you think she left you that cute little note because she didn't love you anymore?” He laughed hysterically. “Clara is dead, Ramiro. We executed her three weeks ago for treason against the family. And now, we're going to finish the bloodline.”
