C22 Chapter 22

Early the Next Morning

Warehouse 12

The dawn light filtered weakly through the charred remains of Warehouse 12, casting a somber hue upon the grim aftermath of the previous night's chaos. The once bustling hub of criminal activity now lay in ruins, a testament to the violence and treachery that had unfolded within its walls.

In the midst of this desolation, Don Theodore Rodriguez knelt on the floor, clutching the lifeless, charred body of his brother, Alfonso. Tears streamed down his face as he stared at the unrecognizable remains, grief and rage etched upon his features.

Beside him, his brother Thiago unleashed a torrent of bullets into the air, the deafening gunfire echoing through the shattered warehouse. His voice, hoarse from screaming, joined in a cacophonous lament. The two brothers, usually united by their criminal pursuits, were now bound together by a profound sense of loss and fury.

Vandel, their enigmatic partner, watched from a distance, his normally composed demeanor tinged with a measure of sympathy. Though he had clashed with the Rodriguez brothers in the past, the bonds forged through their illicit endeavors ran deep. He had no desire to witness the demise of his partners.

"Who did this to you?" Theodore bellowed at the heavens, his voice choked with anguish, as he continued to cradle his brother's remains.

Thiago's fury knew no bounds, and he had emptied his weapon into the sky. But even as he raged, Vandel recognized the futility of their actions.

"Enough, both of you," Vandel interjected, raising his voice above the turmoil. His words cut through the cacophony, forcing the brothers to acknowledge his presence. "Sitting here and crying or raining bullets in the air won't solve anything. If what you are doing could bring your brother back to life right now, then I guess he would already be alive by now. But he isn't because he is already dead."

Vandel's words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of truth. The reality of their loss began to sink in, and the brothers, despite their rage and despair, were compelled to consider the bigger picture.

"What are you trying to say?" Thiago demanded, his voice a volatile blend of grief and anger.

"Calm down, Thiago," Theodore interjected, his tone weary but resolute. "I am not your enemy. I am only trying to help. What I am trying to tell you both is that instead of sitting here and mourning all day, you should try to find the one responsible for this. This whole thing wasn't an accident; it was obviously planned by someone."

Vandel's words seemed to penetrate the haze of their anguish, and Theodore nodded in reluctant agreement. Thiago, though still seething, also acknowledged the wisdom in Vandel's counsel.

"Vandel is right, Thiago," Theodore continued. "Somebody out there killed our brother, and no matter who they are or where they come from, I am going to make them pay, even if that's the last thing I do."

With Theodore's declaration, the brothers found a renewed sense of purpose. The lifeless body of Alfonso was taken away by four of their men, to be prepared for a proper funeral.

"Antonio," Vandel called to one of his trusted subordinates.

"Yes, boss," Antonio responded, approaching Vandel.

"I need you to gather everyone who was here within the last twenty-four hours," Vandel ordered. His voice carried a tone of authority that brooked no dissent.

Warehouse 11

The following scene shifted to Warehouse 11, a place that had been spared the violence of the previous night but not the repercussions. Inside, Theodore, Thiago, and Vandel, flanked by their men, awaited the arrival of those who had been summoned.

As the guards of Warehouse 12 and the food delivery personnel from "Casa De Questo" restaurant assembled before them, a sense of dread hung heavy in the air. These men, now caught in the web of suspicion, faced a stark choice—reveal the truth or suffer the consequences.

"What I'm about to ask you is very simple," Vandel declared, his tone measured and unwavering. "All you have to do is tell me what exactly happened last night in Warehouse 12. You answer correctly, you live. You answer wrongly, you die."

The weight of Vandel's words bore down upon the assembled men, and fear coursed through their veins as they considered the dire consequences of their responses.

"Let's begin with the delay in the food delivery," Vandel began, his gaze settling on Victor and Mario as they stepped forward.

"You two are responsible for it, correct?" Vandel inquired, waiting for their confirmation.

"We are responsible for it, sir," Mario replied.

"Explain why there was a delay," Vandel pressed, scrutinizing them with a discerning gaze. "Your boss informed us that you left the restaurant at 9:00, but you arrived at the warehouse by 11:30. Given the route you took, you should have arrived at precisely 10:00. Why the delay?"

Mario exchanged a brief, meaningful look with Victor before responding, "Sir, it's because our car broke down. That's why we couldn't get to the warehouse on time."But Vandel was not easily swayed. He continued to dig deeper, unveiling a layer of deception. "Then explain how the food you delivered had sleeping medicine in it."

Victor and Mario exchanged guilty glances, their voices trembling with fear as they stuttered through their lies. "Please, sir, believe us. We had no idea that the food was drugged. Please, don't kill us."

Vandel's eyes bore into them, his suspicions confirmed. "Since you have nothing to hide, then it's clear that you two tampered with the food you were supposed to deliver, which caused the death of Don Alfonso."

Victor and Mario's pleas for mercy fell on deaf ears as Vandel retrieved his gun, preparing to pass judgment.

"Please, sir, don't kill me," Victor implored, his voice desperate.

"Please, sir, I'll tell you the truth," he continued, his fear overriding his loyalty.

Vandel set aside his weapon, and anticipation hung heavy in the room as Victor prepared to reveal a crucial piece of the puzzle.

"On our way to deliver the food," Victor began, "there was a car driving ahead of us. Halfway through the journey, the car suddenly got into an accident, causing a temporary blockage of the road. We came down from the van to help the driver, but I noticed something strange when I wanted to get my phone from the van. There was a strange light shining from inside the car. As I approached, the lights suddenly went off."

Victor's confession hung in the air, and the room buzzed with tension. Mario, unaware of this revelation, exchanged an incredulous look with Victor.

"What about the man you were trying to help?" Vandel inquired, seeking further clarification.

"He was able to recover after a few minutes," Victor continued, "and then he drove his car out of the way for us to continue our journey."

Realization dawned on those present. The supposed accident had been a calculated ruse, a diversion to pull Victor and Mario away from their delivery van.

"But anyways," Vandel concluded, "there is no point talking about it anymore. Your ignorance and carelessness paved the way for Don Alfonso to be murdered in cold blood. Now you both are going to pay with your lives."

With those words, Vandel ordered Rowen to carry out the execution. As the men knelt in desperate supplication, their pleas for mercy went unanswered. The harsh sound of gunfire echoed through the room, ending the lives of Victor and Mario.

One by one, Vandel turned his attention to those involved in the events of that fateful night. Interrogations and executions continued, each revelation contributing to a growing web of culpability. It was a day of bloodshed and reckoning.

After the last man had been dealt with, Vandel gathered all the remaining men from Warehouse 12, their expressions tense and somber. He stood before them, his presence commanding their attention.

"Men of La Murete Cartel," Vandel began, his voice resonating with a blend of authority and resolve. "Our beloved brother and partner, Alfonso Rodriguez, was killed, murdered in cold blood right under our noses, and we couldn't do anything about it."

He paused for a moment, allowing the weight of their collective loss to sink in. Then, he continued, his words laced with determination.

"These men came into our territory and killed one of our own without fear. It's a slap on all our faces. But we won't let this slide. A threat to one is a threat to all. We are going to find those bastards, no matter who they are or where they came from. We are going to make them regret the day they decided to kill one of our own."

As Vandel raised his gun to the sky, Theodore and Thiago followed suit, firing shots into the air. The rest of the men joined in, their voices rising in unison as they chanted, "La sangre se derramará" – "The blood will be spilled."

The cartel, united in purpose, was now bound by a vow of vengeance. The massacre in Warehouse 12 had ignited a flame of retribution that would consume all who stood in their path.