THE VENDOR AND THE MAFIA BOSS

CHAPTER TEN

The sound of the heavy office door shutting behind them echoed through the dimly lit room. Amara glanced around, the walls lined with old mahogany shelves and expensive-looking art that seemed more for show than personal taste. A single lamp illuminated the large desk at the far end, where Rafa now sat, his fingers steepled in front of him as he watched Marco and Amara enter. His gaze was calculating, like a predator sizing up its prey, and Amara could feel the weight of it pressing down on her.

Marco, never one for pleasantries, walked over to the chair opposite Rafa and sat down without waiting for an invitation. Amara followed suit, taking the chair beside him. She had learned by now that in Rafa’s presence, it was better to speak little and observe more.

Rafa’s eyes shifted between the two of them, his expression unreadable. The silence stretched on, thick and uncomfortable.

“So,” Rafa finally said, his voice low and smooth, “what have you found?”

Marco leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. “Nothing concrete yet,” he admitted, his jaw tightening. “We’ve followed a few leads, but we’re still not sure who the leak is.”

Amara could see the frustration in Marco’s eyes, something rare for him. He was usually a man of action, someone who dealt with problems head-on. But this... this was different. There was too much at stake, and Rafa wasn’t making it any easier.

Rafa’s lips twitched, but there was no smile. Instead, he gave a small nod, almost as if he expected as much. “You’re not looking hard enough,” he said, his voice dripping with condescension. “The problem isn’t in the obvious places. You need to dig deeper. I need results, Marco.”

The sharpness of Rafa’s tone made the room feel colder, and Amara could see Marco’s jaw tighten in response. It was clear they were both trying to keep their cool, but the tension between them was palpable. Marco had always been Rafa’s right-hand man, loyal and efficient, but even loyalty had limits.

Amara spoke up, trying to shift the focus, though her voice betrayed a hint of unease. “What if it’s someone we didn’t expect? Someone from the inside, but not directly involved in the deal?”

Rafa’s eyes flicked at her, his expression unreadable. For a moment, she wondered if she had overstepped, but then he leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers again.

“Very astute,” Rafa said, a touch of approval in his voice. “That’s the direction I want you to think in. Someone with access to the information but who doesn’t directly participate in the operation. A shadow, if you will.”

Amara felt a shiver run down her spine. She had always known that this world was full of hidden dangers, but now the game felt more personal than ever.

“What about your contacts?” Marco asked, his voice hard. “You’re telling me you haven’t heard anything? A whisper? A rumor?”

Rafa’s gaze hardened, and for the briefest moment, his composure faltered. “I don’t rely on whispers and rumors, Marco,” he said coldly. “I rely on certainty. But if you’re not finding the leak, then maybe it’s time to get creative.”

Marco’s brow furrowed, and Amara noticed his fingers twitching, a sign that he was weighing his options. He had never been a fan of Rafa’s more manipulative tactics. Neither of them were. But right now, it seemed like Rafa was calling the shots.

“Creative?” Marco repeated, his voice low. “How?”

Rafa’s lips curled into a slow, almost predatory smile. “We have to make someone talk. Find the weak link, expose their fear. Once we have that, the rest will follow.”

Amara’s stomach twisted at the thought. They were talking about torture, intimidation. This was not the path she wanted to go down, but she knew there was little room for negotiation now. She couldn’t afford to show weakness, not with Rafa watching them so closely.

“I’ll start digging through the files,” Marco said, standing up abruptly. “We’ll find something. We always do.”

But as Marco moved to leave, Rafa’s voice stopped him.

“Not this time, Marco.”

Marco turned, confusion crossing his face. “What do you mean?”

Rafa’s gaze was unwavering. “This time, Amara takes the lead.”

Amara froze, her heart skipping a beat. She wasn’t prepared for this—wasn’t prepared for Rafa to put the responsibility on her. She glanced at Marco, his expression one of disbelief, but she quickly masked her own shock with a veneer of professionalism.

“I’ll do what I can,” she said, her voice steady despite the sudden rush of adrenaline. “But I’ll need full access to the operation. Every file, every person involved.”

Rafa leaned back in his chair, watching her with keen interest. “Of course. But remember, Amara,” he said, his voice dropping lower, “the clock is ticking. We can’t afford any mistakes.”

She nodded, her mind already racing with the possibilities. There was something Rafa wasn’t telling them. There always was. But she couldn’t afford to ask it right now. She had a job to do, and she had to do it well.

The heavy, metallic smell of rust and oil filled the air as Amara and Marco entered the dimly lit warehouse. It was a stark contrast to the polished office they had just left. Here, the air felt thick, almost suffocating. The concrete floors were cracked, and the walls were lined with rusted steel beams. This was the underbelly of the operation, where things got messy.

Amara moved with purpose, her eyes scanning the room for anything out of place. Marco was already at a nearby desk, rifling through files and stacks of paper. She felt the weight of the task on her shoulders, but she pushed it aside. She had no choice but to keep moving forward.

As she dug through the files, she couldn’t shake the feeling that Rafa was hiding something. There was always more to the story, and if she was going to make it out of this unscathed, she needed to know what it was.

Her hand paused over a file marked “Confidential.” She hesitated for a moment before pulling it free, her eyes flicking over the documents inside. Names. Dates. Addresses. It was the usual information, but there was something about it that made her blood run cold.

One name stood out—Victor Mendoza.

Amara’s heart skipped a beat. Victor Mendoza was a name she hadn’t heard in years, but it was one she would never forget. He was a ghost from her past, someone she thought she’d left behind long ago.

What was he doing here?

She quickly skimmed through the rest of the file, her mind racing. The pieces were starting to fall into place, but she wasn’t sure what it all meant yet. The only thing she knew for certain was that Victor Mendoza was no coincidence. His name in these files meant something—something dangerous.

Suddenly, Marco’s voice broke through her thoughts.

“Amara, you need to see this.”

She looked up to find Marco holding a different file in his hands. His face was pale, and the file was shaking slightly.

“What is it?” she asked, her voice tight.

“Look for yourself,” Marco said, tossing the file onto the table in front of her.

Amara opened it, her eyes scanning the documents quickly. She could feel the weight of the situation pressing down on her with every word.

It was a list of names—important names—tied to the operation, but the final name at the bottom made her stomach drop.

Rafael Monteverde.