THE VENDOR AND THE MAFIA BOSS

CHAPTER FIVE

The early morning sun had barely crept through the blinds of Amara’s apartment when she received a text from Rafa. The message was brief, but the gravity of it was impossible to ignore.

Report to the warehouse in one hour. Bring everything you have.

Amara couldn’t help but feel the familiar knot tighten in her stomach as she read the words. This wasn’t a friendly business partnership. It wasn’t the friendly mentorship she had been hoping for, either. Rafa’s world was much darker, more complicated than she had realized.

Her heart raced as she shoved her phone into her bag, quickly dressing in dark, practical clothing. She could feel the weight of the decision she had made settling in her chest. She had agreed to the deal, but now it felt like there was no turning back.

By the time she arrived at the large industrial warehouse in Pasig, the sun had climbed higher in the sky, casting a golden glow on the concrete surroundings. It was the kind of place that screamed danger, tucked away in an area that was far from prying eyes. As Amara pulled her car into the parking lot, she noticed several vehicles parked in a neat row, all expensive, all belonging to people she didn’t know—people she would soon come to learn were part of Rafa’s underground empire.

The heavy steel doors creaked open as she approached. Inside, the warehouse was a maze of crates and machines, the air thick with the scent of oil and metal. It was quieter than she had expected, but there was a certain tension that she could almost taste. The kind of quiet that meant something big was about to go down.

As Amara made her way through space, Sofia emerged from the shadows, her sharp eyes scanning Amara from head to toe.

“Mr. Monteverde is expecting you,” she said, her voice clipped and businesslike. “Follow me.”

Sofia led her deeper into the warehouse until they reached a section that was much more secure. A set of reinforced doors stood before them, and behind it was a room filled with monitors and tech equipment, the kind of space one would expect to find in a well-funded operation.

Rafa was already there, standing in the center of the room, his back to her, his expression unreadable. The same sharp suit he had worn before clung to his frame, making him look both powerful and untouchable. He turned as soon as he heard Sofia’s footsteps behind Amara.

“Amara,” he greeted her, his voice steady, though there was a hint of something colder beneath it. “I trust you’re ready for the next step.”

Amara stood firm, fighting the butterflies that had started to swarm her stomach. “I’m ready. What’s the plan?”

Rafa took a step toward her, his gaze calculating as he spoke. “You need to prove that you can handle yourself. This isn’t just about making deals; it’s about surviving. You’re going to help us with a job, something low-key, but critical.”

Amara’s heart pounded in her chest. This was the moment she had been dreading. She had no doubt that whatever this “low-key” job was, it would not be as simple as Rafa made it sound. But she wasn’t going to back down now. Not when she had already made the commitment.

“What’s the job?” she asked, keeping her voice steady.

Rafa glanced at one of the men standing in the corner of the room, a large, intimidating figure. He was wearing a tactical vest, his arms folded over his chest in an almost relaxed manner, but the surrounding air was anything but calm.

“This,” Rafa said, turning back to Amara, “is Marco. He’ll be your partner for this job. We’re going to be intercepting a shipment—nothing illegal, not yet. But you’ll need to work fast and efficiently.”

Amara’s brow furrowed. “Interception? A shipment of what?”

“Electronics,” Marco spoke up, his voice rough, like he’d seen too many things to care about making conversation. “There’s a container full of high-end gadgets, all set to be sold. We’re going to take it, make sure it never reaches the buyer.”

Amara didn’t know whether to feel relief or fear. “And what happens after we take it?”

“Afterward?” Rafa’s lips curled in a thin smile. “We will sell it to the highest bidder, of course.”

The coldness in his tone sent a shiver down her spine, but she didn’t back away. She had already walked into this world. Now, there was no escaping it.

Sofia stepped forward, handing Amara a small black bag. “Inside is everything you’ll need: a walkie-talkie, a set of tools, and a few other things to keep you safe. Marco will guide you through.”

Amara took the bag, her fingers brushing against Sofia’s as she did. There was a strange tension in the air, a silence that seemed to vibrate between them. She quickly looked away and focused on Marco, who was now making his way toward the exit.

“Let’s go,” Marco said with a grunt.

Amara followed him out, trying to mask her unease. Rafa was watching her every move, and she could feel the weight of his gaze, like an invisible pressure pressing down on her chest.

The drive to the target location was uneventful, but the tension between Amara and Marco was palpable. She kept her focus on the route, her mind racing with thoughts of what was to come. They were heading to a warehouse district near the port, a part of Manila she’d never ventured to before. It wasn’t the kind of place you would come across unless you were involved in shady business.

Marco’s car pulled to a stop at the edge of the district, a few blocks from the warehouse where the shipment was supposed to arrive. The streets were nearly deserted, the only sounds coming from the distant hum of the city and the occasional rumble of an old truck.

“We are waiting here,” Marco said, his voice as calm as ever. “Once the trucks pull in, we make our move. You stick close, do as I say, and everything will go smoothly. Got it?”

Amara nodded, though she wasn’t entirely sure if she believed him. But this was her test—her chance to prove that she belonged in Rafa’s world. She wasn’t going to fail.

Amara and Marco waited in silence, watching the lights of the trucks as they approached. The shipment was due any minute, and the plan was simple: intercept it, secure the goods, and leave without drawing any attention.

As the first truck rolled in, Marco’s voice crackled through the walkie-talkie, low and direct.

“Move,” he said, and the two of them slipped from the shadows into the warehouse.

Amara’s heart raced as they approached the cargo hold. She could feel the weight of the situation bearing down on her—the sound of her own breath, the creak of the truck’s doors, the heavy footsteps echoing in the cavernous space.

They were in it now. There was no turning back.