Martinez, my dad of course, didn’t hear about any of this immediately. He was too busy plotting revenge, getting ready to send his men out for a bloodbath. I wasn’t important to him. I was just a shadow in the background of his empire, easy to overlook.
By the time Rafael got the call about my body, Martinez had already set his men loose on the streets. They were gearing up for retaliation, clueless that they had already lost one of their own.
Rafael approached Martinez cautiously, phone still in his hand. “Boss, you need to hear this.”
Dad didn’t even look up. “What?”
“There’s been another body found,” Rafael said, his voice quieter than usual. “A girl, at the market. It’s bad, boss. Real bad.”
He frowned. “One of ours?”
“We’re not sure,” Rafael admitted. “Body’s... too messed up to tell. But the cops think it’s connected to the others.”
For a moment, my dad said nothing, just thinking. Another body. Another victim in this war. But something about this didn’t sit right. The timing was off. The location—it didn’t fit the pattern.