LOVING HER TOO LATE

CHAPTER 013

Ethan's POV

I should have realized the air would be filled with the smells of blood and gasoline.

The warehouse stood at the city’s edge, looking like an old, rusted animal with broken glass eyes. The cold seemed to find its way into my jacket, as if it knew I didn’t fit in. Every step I took seemed to echo loudly and without company. No backup. No partners. Just me.

My empire was falling apart.

I was standing in the dark, lit only by a single flickering light, like a fish on a hook. I had my hands in my coat pockets, touching the pen and the burner phone. Signs of great need. I convinced myself that this was a meeting. A negotiation. However, that was not true. You don’t try to make deals with monsters.

I heard my phone vibrate just once. I looked into it.

No words. Just a picture.

My wife leaving our kids’ school with them.

A timestamp.

They had already noticed me before I arrived.

I clenched my jaw and tried to swallow. I had to hide my fear. Not here. Not now.

The warehouse door creaked open as I walked through. I didn’t look back. I just kept breathing. I could hear someone walking behind me, but the steps were quiet and steady. Five? Six? No—more. They came on like a strong wave of water. I could detect the smell of oil. Leather. Metal.

He moved forward at that point.

El Lince.

I didn’t require an introduction. The man’s name was feared throughout the underworld like a sharpened wire. If the cartel could speak, it would be through him. If he had claws, they were his as well.

“Ethan Cruz,” he said, with a voice as smooth and sharp as glass in silk. “The prince who once ruled over port control.”

I moved slowly as I turned. Looked him straight in the eye. “Still standing.”

“For now.” His smirk looked like he didn’t care. Confident. That smile that showed he knew how the story would end.

He was wearing a perfectly pressed charcoal suit. He looked like he had just left a penthouse, not a bloody empire. His eyes seemed to move at a very slow pace. He enjoyed seeing people feel uncomfortable.

He waved his hand. A man from his group walked up with a silver briefcase.

They opened the letter.

A pile of cash, all held together with bands. A lot more money than I had seen in a long time. Maybe years.

He said, “All yours,” as if he were giving me candy.

In return, we want to use port ninetythree and eightytwo without restrictions. Total clearance. All your internal channels. You ensure it is clean and legal. Security sleeps. We can move our things whenever we choose. You turn your head away.

I felt a sudden drop in my stomach.

I used Port 93 and 82 as my clean ports. No drugs. No weapons. Only ship goods to buyers who have been checked and approved. They were the only cards I had left when I was losing.

“What if I say I don’t want to?”

El Lince didn’t move an eyelid. He took a folder out of his coat and handed it to me. We put it on a dusty crate between us. Opened it.

Photos. Dozens.

My wife at the supermarket.

My son enjoying a bike ride.

My daughter performing at her dance recital.

Even our dog, who’s always in the backyard.

“We’re not here to cause trouble,” El Lince assured them. We’re demonstrating how much we care. This isn’t about business, Ethan. This is what insurance is for. We look after you and you look after our children.

“What if I don’t succeed?”

He smiled. “You won’t.”

I felt like screaming. To hit him with a punch. To take the briefcase and throw it in his arrogant face.

Still, I didn’t do it.

I looked at the pictures once more. Every smile. Every angle. I noticed my family in a way I hadn’t before.

As hostages.

“What about the future favor?”

He came so close that I could detect the mint on his breath.

“There will be a moment,” he said softly. You will obey our instructions. No questions. No hesitation. You’ll recognize it when it happens.

I tried to hold back the lump in my throat. I reached into my coat and found the pen. I felt my hand move without me thinking about it. Slowly. It felt as if my soul was pulling me back.

I put my signature on the contract.

It was as if I was on fire.

At that point, I understood. I was no longer Ethan Cruz.

I was invisible. Owned.

El Lince closed the briefcase and got to his feet.

“You are now part of our family,” he told me.

He started to walk away, but then stopped and leaned in closer.

“Are you willing to face the consequences?”

And in a moment, he was no longer there.

The others vanished, just like smoke.

I was alone in the warehouse, surrounded by cold air and a faint memory of my old life.

It felt as if I was driving in a fog of fear. The road was lit by my headlights, but I couldn’t tell where I was driving. Each move I made seemed to be the wrong one. Every time the road got rough, I thought an ambush was about to happen.

I kept checking my appearance in the mirror. Many times.

No tail.

I was the last one in line.

It didn’t make a difference.

I wasn’t trying to get away from anything. Not this time around.

I arrived home at around midnight. The only light in the house came from the TV in the living room. The cartoons moved across the screen, without any sound.

My wife was resting on the couch. One arm was wrapped around our youngest, who was resting against her. Our son was sleeping quietly beside us. With his toy truck in his hands.

I remained in the doorway, not taking a step.

They seemed calm and at ease.

Untouched.

But I understood the truth.

We were already in a dangerous situation.

I fell to the ground beside them, feeling tired. I couldn’t bear to touch them. I could still feel the dirt on my hands. It felt as if the ink from the contract had seared into my skin.

What had I actually done?

I felt like crying. But the tears I shed didn’t seem to fit how I felt.

I remained seated.

Noticing their breathing.

Hearing the clock tick away.

And realizing that every second was on loan now.

The following morning, I avoided looking at anyone.

At breakfast, my wife asked me if I was feeling all right. I nodded. Tried to look happy. He said it was just the stress of his job. The usual.

She trusted what I said.

It was more painful than if she had just told me the truth.

My phone made another sound. Unknown number. I didn’t say anything. Then another.

No message. No voicemail.

Just watching.

I attempted to do my job. Tried to act like everything was normal. Made some phone calls. Reviewed the shipping logs. Whenever I checked the port schedules, I noticed El Lince’s smile was always there.

I wondered if I could somehow reverse what happened.

Act as if you are having a breakdown. Destroy the papers. Replace the ports with each other. Contact the federal authorities.

But I knew deep down that it wasn’t true.

These weren’t men you fooled.

They were men who buried people in cement at a lower cost.

They knew my family’s names.

They knew where my kid went to school.

They took our dog from us.

Two nights after that, the first real challenge appeared.

Another message. This time spent with words.

New shipment. Same ports. Tomorrow night. No mistakes.

It shows a picture of my daughter’s dance studio that is not very clear.

The message didn’t have to include the words “or else.”

I simply nodded in response.

As if they could notice me.

Obedience was the only way we could communicate.

I couldn’t sleep that night. I lay there in bed, looking at the ceiling, while my wife slept beside me, her hand on my chest. Whenever I closed my eyes, I could see her covered in blood. I noticed our kids were screaming. I noticed the dog’s leash was hanging on the empty porch.

I was unable to protect them.

Not really.

I had no choice but to obey.

And wait.

Within the next week, I began to see differences.

The security guard at Port 93 didn’t know the new night supervisor, but didn’t ask any questions.

Containers were being delivered without any inspection instructions. The paperwork has already been signed. Not from me.

I was no longer in charge of my actions.

I was no longer in charge of my empire.

It belonged to them.

I was only the mask.

The appearance of respectability covering up a rotting body.

People continued to greet me with a handshake. He continued to call me boss. I still smiled as I entered different rooms.

However, I was no longer Ethan.

I was like a ghost.

A man who was counting down to a request I couldn’t say no to.

One evening, I held my son as he fell asleep on me, feeling his warmth and hearing him softly snore.

I wondered:

What if the favor is something that causes harm?

What if they are looking for blood?

What if they ask me to shoot?

What if the next time... it’s someone I know?

A person I care about?

Would I be willing to do it?

Could I?

If I said no, would that be the night they came for us?

The fear was quiet.

It took a long time. Steady. Creeping.

It feels like rust in my body.

I began drinking alcohol again. Start with a small amount at the beginning. Then more.

I now sleep with the lights on. Triplelocking doors. Looking at the windows every two hours.

My wife was aware of it. She wanted to know more.

I spoke in halftruths and gave her broken smiles.

She held me closer at night.

She didn’t realize she was embracing a traitor.

A week after that, I received another call.

Short. Simple. Cold.

You need to make something happen. Next week. Private dock. No police. No questions.”

I didn’t think twice about it.

I replied, “I’m finished.”

Hung up.

I then threw up into the sink.

I saw my reflection and it seemed like someone I didn’t know.

What was I turning into?

The most troubling aspect is that…

A strange part of me felt secure.

Giving up control made things much easier for me.

You won’t have to make tough choices anymore.

You can stop worrying now.

Do what you are told. Ensure the family can breathe.

That’s the problem, isn’t it?

They don’t steal your life in one go.

They move forward step by step.

One day, you suddenly realize that:

You’ve given everything you have.

There is just one more thing I need from you.

A final cost.

The last, impossible decision to make.

What happens when that day arrives?

I’ll hear El Lince’s voice in my mind once more.

Are you willing to make the sacrifices?

What is the answer?

I am still holding back what I want to say.