12. Lars
Morning comes too quickly.
Because I slept like a man who went to bed with a woman burned into his skin and woke up to a war waiting outside my door. I’m up before sunrise, showered, dressed and armed, my movements on autopilot.
Right now, I need to focus on Sera. Austin will not wait for me to get my dick under control, and Maravilla sure as hell won’t. Cash made that clear when his message came through at five a.m.
We’re moving early.
When Cash Calder says move, you show up.
The Lone Saints compound is already alive when I pull in—engines roaring, boots crunching gravel, voices sharp with purpose. This is what a real crew looks like before a mission—focused, coiled, hungry.
Cash stands on the steps, barking orders to two members who peel off toward the garage. Hale’s stationed near a folding table inside, satellite images and maps pinned down with ammo boxes. His hair is a mess again; that one stubborn piece hanging into his eyes like it always does.
Cash spots me and jerks his chin. “Marchetti. Good, you’re here. We’ve got a problem.”
I sigh. “Of course we do.”
I step in beside Hale and scan the intel. A route marked in red cuts through a rural stretch south of the city, an expanse of open land with sparse cover. Good territory for an ambush if you control the timing. Fatal if someone else does.
Hale taps the map. “Maravilla’s running a shipment through Bastrop today. Not drugs—guns. A lot of them.”
“Intel source?” I ask.
“We’ve received confirmation from two different sources,” Cash says. “One reliable. The other, I’d rather not discuss.”
Meaning someone close to Veleno has eyes on Maravilla.
I draw in a slow breath. “And you want to hit it?”
Cash nods once. “Hard.”
Hale looks up. “Recon says three vehicles. Two SUVs, one truck in the middle. Six men, minimum. Maybe eight if they pulled extras from Laredo.”
“Who’s leading?” I ask.
“Maravilla’s cousin,” Cash replies. “Not his smartest lieutenant.”
“So, we have an opportunity.”
“A small one,” Cash corrects.
His tone leaves no room for optimism. Maravilla has been pushing into Austin inch by inch. Sera’s been carving through his lieutenants two at a time. And Falco’s circling the whole thing like a vulture waiting for the kill.
This shipment isn’t just for the movement of product, it’s a test. Maravilla wants to see what the Saints will allow through their territory. He wants to find out if they will stand their ground or let them lay claim.
Hale drags a knuckle along the red route. “Intercept here, just before County Road Eighteen. One way in, one way out. Good choke point.”
“What’s the plan?” I ask.
Cash studies me, then steps back and folds his arms. “You tell us.”
The yard goes quiet. Now I’m the one being tested.
I lean in, studying the terrain—the angles, the blind spots, the staggered spacing of groups of trees. “There’ll be a scout SUV half a mile ahead. That vehicle goes first.”
Hale nods. “Agreed.”
“We hit it at the bend here,” I say, tapping the map. “Take the tires. Don’t kill the driver. We want their comms to be intact. I want to talk to him afterward.”
Cash grins. “You Marchettis and your fucking talking.”
I ignore him. “Once the scout’s down, the truck slows. They won’t push through until they understand the threat. That buys us time.”
“How much?” Hale asks.
“A couple of minutes, depending on if they panic.”
He whistles. “Generous.”
“Four of your soldiers flank the truck,” I continue. “Pin it. Rear SUV goes last. They’ll panic, break formation, and make mistakes.”
Cash nods. “Keep going.”
“We need shooters on the embankment here,” I add. “Rifles. Keep the pressure so no one bails.”
“And after?” Hale asks.
“We'll take the weapons,” I say. “Leave the bodies. We just need to be sure to keep at least one alive.”
Cash’s grin widens. “To talk.”
“To scream,” I correct. “Falco’s sniffing around. Someone will break eventually.”
Silence settles over the group.
Cash lets out a sharp laugh. “Enzo sent the right man.”
Hale caps his marker. “Looks like we’ve got ourselves a plan.”
Cash steps closer. “We roll at sundown. Are you ready?”
“Of course.”
Hale glances up, with a glint in his eyes. “My guy said you’ve been to a couple of games. Said you made a new friend in Austin.”
I glare at him.
Cash chuckles. “Hale’s just giving you grief because he’d lose his life savings at a table like that.”
“Nothing wrong with having a little fun,” I say.
Cash’s expression hardens. “Be careful.”
“Noted.”
“Good,” he says. “Because if Falco’s watching closely enough to hunt Sera, he’ll take an interest in anyone close to you.”
The warning lands heavy.
“He won’t touch her,” I say.
Hale meets my gaze. “Then be ready. Whether we want it to or not, this war is coming.”
When we pull out of the compound thirty minutes before dark, the sun is already bleeding into the horizon, turning the Texas sky the color of dried blood. Cash leads the convoy south—two trucks, three bikes—toward land empty enough for bodies to disappear.
Maravilla’s operation is predictable. Product moves north from the Valley through Laredo, hidden in refrigerated trucks, false compartments, even church vans. Everything funnels to Luling before creeping up through Austin and splitting toward smaller stash houses.
If the intel is right, tonight’s run is high value.
I sit in the back of Hale’s SUV, vest tight, my rifle across my lap. The closer we get, the flatter the land becomes. Wide open fields with low brush and scattered clusters of scrub trees offering little cover.
We kill the lights and pull into an old garage overlooking the highway, property owned by one of the Saints’ associates.
“Convoy’s on schedule,” Cash says. “Left Luling twenty minutes ago.”
We take up positions in the loft above the garage. From here, we have a clear view of the road. Minutes later, headlights crest the hill.
To anyone else, they’d look ordinary. To me, the formation is unmistakable.
Cash folds his arms. “If Sera hits, this is her spot.”
“Then where is she?” Hale mutters.
“She won’t be on the road,” I say.
Cash glances at me. “Meaning?”
“She stays hidden. She won’t take the obvious angle.”
Hale scoffs. “She’s one woman. Not Batman.”
He doesn’t get the chance to say another word as something moves above the convoy.
“Drone,” I say.
Cash swears, raising the binoculars. “Son of a—”
A charge drops onto the lead SUV. Fire blooms and metal screams. Men spill out, shouting, disoriented.
“How the fuck did she acquire drones?” Hale breathes.
“Veleno must have deeper pockets than we thought,” I say.
A second drone appears. Another charge drops and the truck tears open, fire erupting into the air as Maravilla’s men scramble.
“She’s not here,” Cash growls. “She’s running this remote.”
“Fuck,” I mutter. “She just changed the game.”
The rear SUV swerves out of control and rolls into a ditch. Then silence. This time, there’s no roses, no signature left behind, just devastation.
“This was a clear message,” I say, lowering the binoculars.
“What kind?” Cash asks.
“The kind that says she’s done playing small.”
“And us?”
I track the sky where the drone disappears. “If I were a betting man, I’d say she knew we’d be watching.”
Smoke rolls past us through the open window, thick and acrid.
Hale exhales sharply. “That shipment was worth over a million. Maravilla’s going to burn the city down over this.”
Cash turns to me. “We’re going to need more men.”
My eyes stay focused on the sky.
“Let me worry about that,” I say. “You just help me keep her alive.”