Aragua Must Fall

Wounds and Warnings

David pulled into Xavier’s gated complex, his car tires crunching gravel. The bulletproof SUV’s driver-side mirror had cracked and is dangling. He parked fast, killed the engine, and stepped out, scanning the environment out of habit.

Xavier waited on the porch, arms crossed, eyes narrowing when he saw the damage.

“What the hell happened?” Xavier asked as David walked up. “You look like you were chased.”

David closed the door behind him. “Supermarket parking lot. There was a sniper. Miguel Hernandez. But he’s dead now.”

Xavier’s face tightened. “You okay?”

“Fine. He didn’t get a clean shot. But he knew where I’d be.”

Xavier rubbed his jaw. “They’re coming hard. First your house, now this. Someone’s got your scent.”

David glanced toward the apartment door. “Don’t tell Micah. She doesn’t need the fear.”

Xavier nodded. “Agreed. But we can’t keep her here forever. If they hit your place, they’ll hit mine next.”

David looked at him straight. “That’s why I’m moving out tomorrow. I’ll rent something close. If trouble comes here, I can get back fast.”

Xavier exhaled. “Smart. But you’re not doing this alone. We’ll rotate watch. Lena’s digging on leads. We’ll find the source.”

David clapped his shoulder. “Thanks.”

Inside, Micah sat on the couch, flipping through channels. She looked up when they walked in, eyes searching David’s face.

“You’re back,” she said softly.

He gave her a small smile. “Yeah. Got everything we need.”

She didn’t ask why he was looking so tired, she just moved over so he could sit beside her.

That night he slept on the couch again, his gun under the pillow, and his ears open.

Morning came quiet.

David left early. He searched and found a small apartment three blocks from Xavier’s house. A second floor, good sight lines, with back exit. He paid in cash but didn’t use a name.

Two nights later, trouble found him.

The first attacker came at 1:17 a.m.

Andres Vega, the tracker, was silent, and patient. He slipped through the window like a shadow. David sensed the shift in the air before he saw the man. He rolled off the bed, grabbed the pistol from the nightstand.

Andres lunged and with his hand, his knife flashed. David blocked the wrist, slammed him into the dresser. The wall mirror cracked. They grappled, quietly but it was brutal.

Andres hooked a leg behind David’s knee. David fell back and hit the floor hard.

Andres mounted with his knife to David’s throat. David twisted his elbow to Andres temple. Andres staggered. David rolled up quickly, knee to the gut. Andres doubled over. Then David snapped his neck. Andres dropped dead instantly.

David stood breathing hard. Checked the body but there was no ID. Just a burner phone and a photo of himself. He dragged the body to the tub, covered it with a sheet.

Then he sat in the dark, waiting for morning and thinking hard who must have sent this man again.

At 2:34 a.m., the second came.

Juan Escobar, the strangler. He kicked the front door in. Not subtlety. Just hell of a kick. David stood ready. Escobar charged, having his wire garrote in hand.

David fired twice, center mass. Escobar stumbled but kept coming. David rolled behind the couch as bullets tore through cushions. Escobar sprayed the room with automatic bursts, glass shattering, walls pocked.

David flanked left with pistol held up. He fired and hit Escobar’s leg. Escobar roared and dropped to one knee, still shooting.

David lunged and tackled him. They crashed into the kitchen table, wood splintering. Escobar wrapped the wire around David’s neck. David choked because of the grip Escobar had on the wire, and soon his vision started becoming blurring.

He reached back and grabbed Escobar’s injured leg, twisted it so hard, Escobar screamed and loosened the wire from David’s neck.

David spun immediately and drove his elbow into Escobar’s throat. Escobar gagged. Then David drew his knife and slashed across the arm holding the wire. Escobar dropped it. They fought hand-to-hand with their fists, knees, elbows moving fast and skilled. Escobar landed a punch to David’s left arm and with a knife he held, it sliced deep on his skin. Blood poured. David grunted in pain that was sharp but he used the pain. He headbutted Escobar on the nose, Escobar’ nose shattered. Escobar reeled. David stabbed, deep into the chest.

Escobar gasped, with eyes wide and then shortly, he slumped dead. David staggered back. His left arm now bleeding bad. He wrapped it quick with a towel.

Then he went to his car and drove to the hospital. The moment he arrived, he saw Xavier’s call coming in.

.

At Xavier’s apartment, Micah sat on the couch, her knees were up, she was staring at the door. Xavier paced with his phone in hand.

“He’s not answering,” Micah said quietly.

Xavier looked at her. “He’s tough. He’ll call.”

She shook her head. “Something’s wrong. I feel it.”

Xavier stopped. “You really care about him, don’t you?”

Micah’s eyes filled. “He’s all I’ve got left that feels safe.”

Xavier sighed and dialed again.

This time David picked up.

“Wick,” Xavier said. “You good?”

“Two hitmen attacked me, but they are dead. I’m at the hospital. My arm’s bleeding bad.”

Xavier grabbed his keys. “We’re coming.”

Micah stood fast. “I’m going too. What did he say?”

Xavier didn’t argue.

They ran to the car. Xavier hit the siren, lights flashing, and engine roaring. The car tore through the streets, tires screaming around corners. Micah gripped the door handle tight after putting on her seatbelt.

Xavier’s phone rang. He answered on speaker.

“Lena,” he said. “What’s up?”

Lena’s voice came fast. “Hello, Xavier. Where are you? There’s trouble and we need to solve it before it solves us.”

Xavier floored the gas pedal aggressively to make the car speed up as fast as possible.