THE VENDOR AND THE MAFIA BOSS

CHAPTER NINE

The air was thick with tension as Rafa stepped out of the shadows, his presence like a storm cloud settling over them. His dark eyes locked with Marco's for a moment before he acknowledged Amara with a curt nod. The man who had orchestrated so much of what was happening now stood before them, exuding an aura of power and control. But there was something about the way he carried himself tonight—something different—that made Amara's stomach churn with unease.

"Rafa," Marco said, his tone sharp but respectful, a reminder of the hierarchy that had always been in place. "We’ve made the drop. Everything's in order."

Rafa didn’t immediately respond. Instead, he looked at Marco with a cold gaze, taking his time to process the information. There was no rush in him, no sense of urgency. It was as if he were the one in control of the situation, not the other way around.

Amara stood at the edge of the scene, a quiet observer, her eyes darting between the two men. She knew enough to sense when something was wrong, and right now, something definitely felt off. The way Rafa looked at Marco—there was a glint in his eyes, something like a challenge. It made Amara’s heart race.

"Is it done?" Rafa finally asked, his voice calm but carrying an edge that made it clear he wasn’t asking for confirmation. He was demanding it.

Marco straightened, his hand brushing his jacket where the gun rested. "Yes, it’s done. Everything’s where it needs to be."

Rafa’s eyes flicked over to Amara, and she felt a shiver run down her spine. She had seen that look before, but never directed it at her. It was calculating, predatory.

"And you," Rafa said, his voice suddenly softer but still holding an underlying tension. "You’re sure you’re ready for what comes next?"

Amara swallowed, her mouth dry. There was something about his words, the way he said them, that made her question everything. She’d been in the game long enough to know that when someone asks if you’re ready for what comes next, it usually means there’s more at stake than you realize.

"I’m ready," she replied, her voice steady despite the gnawing feeling of uncertainty in her gut.

Rafa smiled, but it wasn’t a friendly smile. It was the kind of smile a predator gives before closing in on its prey.

"Good," he said, the word hanging in the air like a threat. "Because you’ll need to be."

He turned then, heading toward the rusted metal door of the abandoned storefront. Marco followed without a word, his posture rigid. Amara hesitated for a moment, her mind racing with the weight of what had just transpired. There was more happening here than they were telling her, and she didn’t like it.

When she finally stepped inside, the musty smell of damp wood and mildew hit her, mixing with the faint scent of burning oil. The dim light of a single overhead bulb cast shadows on the cracked concrete floor. In the center of the room stood a table covered with stacks of papers, files, and a few unmarked envelopes.

Rafa gestured toward the table. "Sit."

Amara took a seat, her eyes flicking at Marco, who had already positioned himself beside Rafa. She had learned long ago to read people’s body language, and right now, Marco was closed off—tense, on alert. Rafa, on the other hand, seemed too calm, too in control. It was unsettling.

Rafa wasted no time. "We have a problem," he said, his voice low. "A leak in the operation. Someone’s been talking to the police."

Amara’s heart skipped a beat. She’d suspected as much, but hearing it out loud made the reality hit hard. She exchanged a quick glance with Marco, who barely reacted, though she could see the tension in his jaw.

"We need to find out who it is," Rafa continued, his eyes narrowing as he focused on the papers in front of him. "And we need to act quickly before the entire shipment goes up in smoke."

Amara leaned forward slightly, trying to hide the sudden surge of anxiety building in her chest. The situation was spiraling out of control, and she was right in the middle of it.

"You think it’s one of us?" Marco asked, his voice low but sharp.

Rafa’s gaze flickered at him, his lips curling into a thin smile. "I think it’s one of you."

The words hit Amara like a slap on the face. She froze for a moment, processing the implication. Was Marco being accused? Or was Rafa just trying to unsettle them?

"I’ll find out who it is," Marco said, his voice steady. "But if you’re wrong about this—"

Rafa raised a hand, silencing him. "I’m never wrong, Marco."

Amara swallowed, unsure of whether to speak or remain silent. Every instinct she had was telling her to back away, to leave this place before it got any worse, but she had already committed. She had no choice but to stay and see this through.

"Rafa, how are we supposed to handle this?" she asked, her voice carrying more authority than she felt. "We’re talking about more than just a leak. If the police are involved—"

Rafa cut her off. "If the police are involved, then we do what we’ve always done. We eliminate the problem. Quietly. Quickly."

His eyes flicked at Marco. "I’ll give you a name. You’ll follow the trail, find the leak, and fix it. But don’t make this personal. Don’t let it cloud your judgment. Do you understand?"

Marco nodded, but Amara could see the flicker of doubt in his eyes. She knew him well enough by now to understand that he didn’t trust Rafa entirely, but he had no choice but to follow orders.

Rafa turned his attention to Amara. "And you, Amara?" His voice softened, almost like he was trying to be gentle, but she could see through it. "I need you to stay focused. The shipment is still our top priority. Don’t let anything distract you."

She nodded, her throat tight. "Understood."

"Good." Rafa’s eyes gleamed with something dark. "Because if you let anything get in the way of the mission... you’ll regret it."

Amara could feel the weight of his words press down on her chest. There was no turning back now. She was deeper in this than she had ever been before, and the more she tried to find her way out, the more it seemed like the walls were closing in.

As they left the abandoned storefront, Amara’s mind raced. What did Rafa mean by “eliminate the problem”? And why did it feel like the storm was only just beginning?

Marco was silent beside her, his face set in grim lines, but Amara could sense the same unease in him. He was calculating, thinking several steps ahead, and she knew that whatever happened next, they would be facing it together.

But what about Rafa? What was his endgame? And how long would it take before the betrayals and lies caught up with them?

The streets of Manila loomed ahead, a jungle of chaos and uncertainty. And in the shadows, something darker was moving—waiting for the right moment to strike.