Chapter 17
Ajori
The backroads heading to my destination felt like a maze; a labyrinth carved from the earth itself.
There was hardly any traffic or any signs of life; just miles of winding asphalt stretching through endless woods and sunlight flickering through the branches like it was trying to guide me.
.. or warn me. Every so often, I’d pass an old farmhouse sitting way back off the road, half-forgotten.
Even in daylight, that route felt wrong.
That was the kind of place where people could vanish without a whisper, leaving no clue behind for those who might search.
And the whole time, the guy Marcos called Dom calm and dangerous voice replayed in my mind.
She can’t afford to fuck it up. I’ll be the last face she sees.
I was in my zone—focused and calm—until red and blue lights flared in my rearview mirror.
Oh, shit!
My stomach clenched as I eased the car to the shoulder.
The phone lit up instantly.
Marcos.
“Remain calm and get your license out,” he instructed the second I answered.
“I’m calm,” I lied, already reaching into my wallet.
“Remember,” Marcos continued, “keep your hands where they can see them and look the officer in the eye. No sudden moves. No stuttering. And smile when you talk. Cops get curious when you look nervous.”
“Got it.”
A white officer approached, boots crunching on gravel.
I rolled the window down before he reached me, putting on my please-don’t-shoot-me-I’m-friendly face.
“Evening, young lady,” he greeted me, shining his flashlight into the car. “Where you headed?”
“Home,” I replied with a small, tired smile. “I got some bad news about my aunt earlier and needed to get back. Guess I wasn’t paying attention to anything but the road. Was I speeding?”
He tilted his head, still scanning my face. “Not speeding… just haven’t seen this car on this road before. License, please.”
I passed it over, keeping my movements slow.
Behind the phone, Marcos stayed silent, listening.
The cop glanced at it with an unreadable expression, then said, “Hold tight. I’ll be right back,” and he returned to his cruiser without another word.
The second he was out of earshot, Marcos’s voice sharpened. “Breathe, Ajori. He’s running you through the system right now. Don’t fidget. Look bored, not nervous.”
“Bored?!” I shot back. “How the hell am I supposed to look bored when my heartbeat is doing choreography?! I’m probably seconds away from meeting Jesus at this point!” I panicked in a low tone. “Just know, if I get any calmer, it’s because I passed out!”
He chuckled lightly. “Just make sure your face says you’ve got nothing to hide. You’ve got this.”
I sat back, forcing my shoulders to loosen, my eyes on the side mirror as the officer typed into his computer.
“You think he’s suspicious?” I asked quietly.
“I think he’s fishing, but the less bait you give, the quicker he moves on. If he wanted to search, he’d already have backup here.”
By the time the officer returned, I had perfected my mildly inconvenienced civilian expression.
“Alright,” he said, handing back my license. “Your record’s clean. Just… be careful. We had reports of a car like this leaving a scene in another county. Not saying it was you, but you match the make and model.”
“I understand,” I replied, sliding the license back into my wallet. “I’ve been on the highway all morning. I can even pull up my GPS route if you’d like.”
He shook his head. “Not necessary. Safe travels.”
“Thank you, officer. I appreciate it.”
As soon as I merged back onto the road, Marcos’s voice came through the speaker again, but it was smoother, almost impressive.
“You handled that like a pro. You handed him a clean alibi without overexplaining; that’s the kind of composure people can’t teach.”
I could almost hear the smirk in his tone.
“Yeah, with your assistance,” I grumbled. “I thought for sure he was gonna check the car.”
“But he didn’t,” Marcos countered.
“He still wanted to; you can’t tell me he didn’t.”
“Wanting to ain’t the same as doing it. Good job, though. Now let’s stay focused these next six hours.”
***
I checked the GPS, and it showed I had two hours until I reached the drop spot. I’d already switched cars at the second checkpoint. It was a smooth and silent transition. Everything was running clean, until I had to pee… badly.
Marcos’s advice about limiting what I drank? Yeah, apparently I didn’t limit enough.
I pressed my thighs together, wincing. “I swear if I pee on myself during a drug run, just bury me where I sit.”
I dialed Marcos.
It rang… and rang.
No answer.
I called again.
Still nothing.
My bladder throbbed in protest.
I stared at the phone, remembering the extra number Marcos programmed and told me to call only if I couldn’t reach him—the guy Dom’s number.
I hesitated.
I hated the idea of asking him for permission to pee like I was five… but the alternative was wet, so I called.
He answered on the first ring, sounding irritated and half-distracted. “Speak.”
Great… off to a fantastic start.
“H-Hi,” I said, voice small against my will. “I, um… I need to stop and pee.”
There was a long, heavy silence.
I didn’t know if he was thinking it over or considering how to kill me for asking something that probably sounded stupid on a long-distance run.
Finally, “Yeah,” he allowed, tone low. “But you’re taking that camera with you.”
I blinked. “What? I mean… okay. But why?”
“So I can see you at all times,” he replied. Then his voice dipped—smooth, deep, unintentionally lustful. “We’re not losing you in the woods or to some weird shit.”
There was a beat, as if he realized how his tone landed.
Then he added sharply, almost defensive, “And don’t try nothing. I’ll know if you do.”
I swallowed. “I’m literally just trying not to pee on myself, sir.”
“Find a store. Five minutes, tops.”
Ten minutes later, like God felt pity on my bladder, a small gas station appeared like a miracle.
I pulled in, unclipped the camera from the sun visor, and held it up. “How do I…?”
“Angle it down,” he instructed, voice rough, as if he was adjusting something on his end. “Higher… good. Keep walking. Don’t lower it.”
Inside, I beelined toward the bathroom, pushing the door open with my hip.
“Do you have to watch me pee too?” I whisper-snapped.
“Yes,” he answered bluntly. “But don’t flatter yourself. I ain’t trying to look at yo’ pussy; I just need to see the door. Don’t get cute.”
The way he said pussy? God. He did not say it like a man who wasn’t thinking about it.
I almost hated how flustered he had me.
“Fine,” I muttered and handled my business fast.
When I finished and washed my hands, he spoke again. “You done?”
“Yes,” I sighed, grabbing the camera.
“Good. Walk out slow. Let me see the whole store.”
Bossy.
Demanding.
Annoyingly sexy.
Thankfully, they let me bring light snacks for the drive, so I didn’t need to grab anything else.
Outside, I returned to the car and clipped the camera back onto the visor.
“You should be good now,” he said. “No more stops until you reach your destination.”
I pulled out of the lot and merged back onto the lonely black ribbon of road, praying my bladder didn’t betray me again.
The dirt road leading to the location felt endless.
When the compound finally came into view, my breath caught in my throat.
Marcos had warned me that this location would be unlike any other, but nothing could have prepared me for the sight that lay ahead.
That wasn't just another warehouse like those I had encountered before; it resembled a full-fledged cartel base.
High, imposing metal gates loomed at the entrance, flanked by concrete barriers that seemed to scream security.
Surveillance cameras were mounted on every pole, leaving no corner unmonitored.
And then there were the men… lots of them.
Everywhere I looked, they were there. Marcos did warn me that one was different, but I was seeing it.
As I slowed toward the gate, two guards stepped out, rifles pointed down but ready. One held up his palm.
I stopped.
He walked straight to my window. “Name,” he said, accent thick, tone colder than the barrel he carried.
“Ajori.”
He studied me, the car, and the fact that I looked like a lost college student who took a wrong turn. Finally, he gave me a curt nod and spoke into his radio.
As the heavy metal gate began to roll open, it revealed a vast, sprawling compound beyond.
I eased the car forward, following the deliberate gestures of one guard, then another, and yet another, each directing me with an air of practiced efficiency.
They were expecting me to have no idea where the product was hidden, which meant they needed me to pull up, and them to pull it out.
When I reached the center of the yard, a man stood waiting.
The boss.
He wasn’t tall or bulky, but something about him was dark around the edges, like he carried death in his pockets the way most men carried wallets. He didn’t wave, smile, or blink; he just lifted his hand and motioned for me to stop.
I did.
Then he snapped his fingers, sharp and impatient. “Get out.”
Rude didn’t even begin to describe the harshness of his tone, but I chose not to react. Instead, I stepped out slowly, my palms held visibly at my sides to signal compliance.
“Turn around,” he ordered, his voice void of any warmth.
I complied, pivoting on my heels. Behind me, a group of men swarmed the car like bees to a hive, their movements quick and efficient.
The door swung open with a metallic creak, the sound of seats being pulled forward, and the panels popped open.
I stood still, back to them, trying to breathe evenly.
The boss stepped closer, his presence nearly suffocating.
“You look soft,” he observed, his eyes narrowing with disdain. “Soft girls die on roads like these.”
My heart knocked hard, but my face didn’t show it.
“You scared?” he prodded, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips.
“No,” I replied, the word escaping with more confidence than I felt.
He chuckled, low and cruel. “You should be. This route eats people alive. And your pretty face…” He clicked his tongue, a patronizing gesture.
“Pretty faces draw attention from cops, thieves… and men looking for a reason to make you disappear. And if you panic? If you hesitate? We don’t deal in second chances. ”
Right then and there, I promised myself:
If I make it home, this is my last run. I don’t care what Marcos or that Dom man has to say. I am not built for this life… and today proved it.
Finally, one of the guards called out, “Product counted. Everything’s here.”
The boss stepped back. “You’re free to go. Drive safe. Cops around here aren’t friendly… especially to outsiders.”
I didn’t wait for more words.
I walked fast—almost ran—and slid into the car. My hands shook as I grabbed the wheel. One tear slipped out, but I pulled myself together quick, since I knew Marcos and Dom were probably watching.
I drove off, and not even a minute down the road, my phone rang.
Of course, it was Marcos.
I answered with shaky breath. “Yeah?”
“Good work,” he applauded.
I rolled my eyes internally.
If you consider good work surviving a cartel hazing ritual without almost shitting myself, fainting, crying, or dying… then yeah. Gold star for me, I guess.
Marcos exhaled slowly, a hint of guilt evident in his voice. “Ajori, I need to be honest with you about something. About that traffic stop and the way the client spoke to you? Dom wanted to test you… to see how you handled pressure.”
A wave of anger surged through me, igniting my senses like a match to gasoline.
“Test me?!” I exploded, my voice rising sharply. “I thought we were past that stage! You know what? Fuck you, Marcos, fuck that Dom nigga, and fuck this job!”
“Ajori—”
“No! When I get home tomorrow and collect my pay, y’all don’t have to worry about me ever again! If the contract said I had to work a certain amount of time, consider it null and void! Or hell… kill me! But wait until I give my brother his heart first!”
Silence.
I drew in a breath that wasn’t nearly enough, and my hands trembled like they were having their own conversation about how scared I was.
“You done?” Marcos asked quietly.
“No! I’m tired of risking my life for money that ain’t worth a coffin! I can’t do it anymore!”
More silence—that time it stretched out infinitely.
Then finally, he spoke, “I hear you. I’ll talk to Dom about releasing you. No guarantees, but I’ll do my best. Get some rest. I’ll see you tomorrow. Call me before you leave.”
I didn’t respond, letting my silence be the answer he needed.
Marcos must’ve taken the hint because I heard the click as he hung up.
They had booked me a hotel nearby, ensuring I wouldn’t have to drive ten hours back home, exhausted and on edge.
The room was quiet, warm, and safe-ish.
I laid on the bed, shoes still on, staring blankly at the ceiling, letting my thoughts swirl.
Finally breaking the solitude, I called Kyrin.
“Jo?” he answered, his voice tinged with exhaustion. “You okay?”
My eyes suddenly filled with unshed tears, the weight of my emotions threatening to spill over. "Yeah, sport. I’m okay.”
We talked for a few minutes about normal things that anchored me, preventing me from breaking in half.
When we finally hung up, I turned to face the wall, letting its starkness absorb my stress… and at last, I surrendered to sleep.
This world would kill me without even trying, and I was officially, absolutely, wholeheartedly… done.