CHAPTER 16 – Marcus
Beside me, Leona stirs but doesn't wake, her body curved against mine in the unconscious trust of deep sleep.
"What is it?" I keep my voice low, sliding out of bed with practiced silence.
"The eastside warehouse." Gabriel's voice is tight, controlled. "It's gone."
I move to the window, the city spread out before me, its eastern edge now glowing with distant flames visible even from here. "Casualties?"
"Twelve confirmed. Four critical. The night security team was inside when the explosions hit."
Explosions. Plural. Not an accident, then. "The shipment?"
"Gone. Along with the week's collections from the clubs."
Nearly ten million in cash and product. A significant hit, but the money isn't what matters. This is a message, delivered in fire and blood—the Delgados have decided they've been patient long enough.
"Send reinforcement teams to all primary locations. Double security on the penthouse. I want the surveillance footage from every camera within a mile radius of that warehouse."
"Already done."
"And Carlos Delgado?"
"Still in Miami, according to our sources. But his son Santiago was spotted at La Condesa last night."
Santiago. The hotheaded heir, always pushing for more aggressive action. "Find him. Don't engage yet, but I want his location monitored continuously."
"And Mrs. Drake?"
My eyes move to Leona's sleeping form, peaceful in ways that won't last past the next five minutes. "Prepare the Riverside safehouse. We move in an hour."
After ending the call, I allow myself exactly thirty seconds of stillness, mapping the chess moves that will follow this opening gambit.
The Delgados have miscalculated—they believe Leona has weakened me, that marriage has dulled my edge, made me vulnerable.
They're about to learn how deadly a man can be when he has something worth protecting.
I return to the bed, placing my hand gently on Leona's shoulder. "Wake up."
She turns immediately, instinctively reaching for me before her eyes fully open. When she sees my expression, sleep vanishes from her features. "What's wrong?"
"We're leaving. Now." I move to the closet, pulling out the emergency bags I prepared weeks ago. "Pack anything essential you can fit in one small bag. You have fifteen minutes."
She sits up, instantly alert. "What happened?"
"The Delgados made their move. The eastside warehouse was hit. Twelve of my men are dead or dying."
Understanding dawns in her eyes—not just a business setback, but the beginning of the war that's been brewing since the day I claimed her. "This is because of me."
"No." I toss her the small backpack we've prepared for emergencies. "This is because of them. Their greed. Their inability to recognize boundaries."
"But I'm the catalyst."
I pause, meeting her gaze directly. "You're the excuse, not the reason. They've wanted my territory for years. Your connection to Cody is merely convenient timing."
"Where are we going?"
"Somewhere secure." I check my watch. "Thirteen minutes."
She moves, grabbing only what can't be replaced—the custom wedding band I had made for her, a small framed photo of her parents, and basic toiletries.
"What about my brother?" she asks, zipping the bag closed. "If they're coming for you this aggressively—"
"He's their target too." I strap on my shoulder holster, checking the Glock before securing it. "The attack on the warehouse was deliberate—it contained financial records that could lead to the accounts Cody accessed before disappearing."
***
The Riverside safehouse sits beneath an abandoned textile factory on the outskirts of Port Hollow's industrial district.
From the surface, it appears to be nothing more than a derelict building awaiting demolition.
Below ground lies a fortress—three levels of reinforced concrete, independent power and water systems, enough supplies to last months.
Leona says nothing as we descend in the freight elevator, the grated door closing with a metallic clang that echoes down the shaft. The main level opens to a command center—banks of monitors displaying security feeds, communication systems, weapons lockers along the north wall.
Gabriel is already there, coordinating with our network of informants and enforcers. He nods briefly as we enter but doesn't pause in relaying orders through his headset.
"Status?" I ask when he finishes.
"Santiago Delgado has gone to ground. Last seen entering the Marea Hotel two hours ago, hasn't emerged." He hands me a tablet displaying surveillance photos. "We've identified three of the men involved in the warehouse hit. All were Delgado specialists brought in from Bogotá within the last week."
Leona moves to the security monitors, studying the feeds with focused interest. "You've had this place all along."
"One of several. Preparation is survival in my world."
"Our world," she corrects quietly, and despite everything, satisfaction curls through me at the simple pronoun.
Gabriel clears his throat. "There's more. The drive Cody took—we have confirmation on what it contained."
"Financial records, yes. We knew that."
"Not just any records." He glances at Leona, hesitant.
"She stays," I say, ending the unspoken question. "What was on the drive?"
"Account numbers, access codes, and transfer histories for the Delgado family's private holdings. Not the cartel funds—their personal fortune. Approximately three billion, laundered through a network of shell companies and offshore accounts."
Leona's breath catches. "That's why they want him so badly. He didn't just take cartel business records—he took their actual money."
"And with those codes, he could empty every account," Gabriel confirms. "Completely untraceable if done correctly."
I process this new information, recalculating risk factors and leverage points. "Has he accessed the accounts?"
"Not according to our sources in the banking system. The money remains untouched."
"Because he's waiting," Leona says, her mind working through the implications as quickly as mine. "He knows the moment he touches that money, everyone hunting him will know exactly where he is."
I study her face, impressed despite the circumstances. "You understand your brother's motivations well for someone who claims they've been estranged for years."
"I understand how people think when they're cornered." Her eyes meet mine. "And Cody has been running his entire life, even before he disappeared."
A series of alerts flash across the main security console. Gabriel moves to investigate, his expression darkening as he reads the incoming reports.
"Three more locations hit simultaneously. The nightclub in Southpoint, the shipping office downtown, and the processing center on the west side." He looks up, face grim. "They're targeting our revenue streams systematically."
"Casualties?"
"None reported yet. The buildings were empty."
Property, not people. A strategic choice that tells me exactly who's directing these attacks. Not Carlos with his old-school brutality, but Santiago—the son who studied economics before joining the family business. He's attempting to bleed us financially before engaging in direct confrontation.
Smart, but ultimately futile.
"They think this is about money," I say, moving to the weapons locker and entering my access code. The reinforced door opens to reveal an arsenal that would impress military commanders. "It's time to correct that misunderstanding."
Leona watches as I select weapons—a customized AR-15, two backup handguns, tactical gear designed for maximum mobility.
"You're going after them personally," she says, not a question but a realization.
"Yes."
"Why not send your men?"
I check the magazine on a Sig Sauer before securing it in a thigh holster. "Because some messages need a personal signature."
She absorbs this, her expression shifting from analytical to something harder, colder. Something that matches the temperature of my own blood at this moment.
"What about me?" she asks, straightening her spine, chin lifting in that defiance I've come to respect. "What do you need me to do?"
The question surprises me.
"Stay here. Work with Gabriel to track Cody's movements. If the Delgados are accelerating their timeline, your brother is likely doing the same."
She nods, accepting the task without argument. "Be careful."
I approach her, cupping her face in my hands. "I don't need careful. I need to win."
"Then do that."
I kiss her.
When I pull away, her eyes are clear, steady. No fear, only resolve.
"When you find Santiago," she says quietly, "make sure he understands exactly who he's threatening."
In that moment, looking at my wife's face—calm and deadly serious as she sanctions violence in her name—I feel something shift between us. The last pretense falls away. She isn't just accepting my world anymore.
She's becoming an architect of it.
"I will," I promise, and for the first time since I put a ring on her finger, I feel like we are truly, completely aligned.
The war has begun. But the Delgados have already lost their most significant advantage.
They thought Leona was my weakness.
They're about to discover she's my deadliest weapon.