Aragua Must Fall

Bullets and Betrayals

David sat on the couch in the dimly lit living room, Micah's head resting on his thigh. She had fallen asleep after a while, her breaths slow and even, one hand draped across his knee. He didn't move, just stroked her hair gently, eyes fixed on the dark window.

The house was quiet, but his mind raced. He stayed awake the whole night, gun within reach, listening for any sound that didn't belong.

Morning light filtered through the blinds. David eased Micah's head onto a pillow, careful not to wake her. He pulled out his phone and dialed.

"Xavier," he said low when the line picked up. "Need you here. Now. Crime scene in my living room."

Xavier arrived within the hour, alone, with a team of police taping off the house. Yellow tape stretched across the door, techs snapping photos of the body and bloodstains. Xavier stepped inside, eyes scanning the mess.

"What happened?" he asked, voice low.

David led him to the kitchen, away from the activity. "Intruder. Came through the window with a gun but I managed to knock it off him and then we had a knife fight. He's dead."

Xavier rubbed his jaw. "Pro? Because this looks clean and there’s no ID?"

"Nothing. Ex-special forces, maybe. Knife skills were sharp. But he came prepared with a silencer on his pistol, boot knife. This wasn't random."

Xavier nodded. "Targeted. But who? Aragua knows you're hitting their houses. Could be retaliation for the burns previous night. Or they want the woman, Micah. She's Scott's sister. We both know she is the loose end."

David crossed his arms. "She doesn't know much. But if they think she does…"

"Or it's you," Xavier said. "Your name's out there now. Ramirez talked before you dropped him. Someone high up could be tying off threads."

David's eyes hardened. "We need more intel. Call Lena. See if she can dig on recent chatter. Maybe trace the hit back."

Xavier pulled his phone. "On it. She's sharp. If anyone's got a lead, it's her."

.

They relocated to Xavier's apartment: a secure two-bedroom in a gated community, hidden cameras everywhere. Micah paced the new space, her arms crossed.

"I feel like a prisoner," she said.

David touched her shoulder. "It's temporary. Until we know who's coming."

She looked up at him, eyes softening. "Fine. But don't leave me alone too long."

He didn't say a word.

That afternoon, David headed to the supermarket for supplies. He wanted to get groceries, meds, anything to make the place feel normal. He parked in the crowded lot, scanned the area out of habit.

Nothing seemed off until he stepped toward the car door. A shot cracked and instantly, glass shattered beside his head. David dropped low, rolled behind the engine block. Heart steady, his pistol out in seconds. The shooter was hidden behind a van three spots away, he fired again. Bullet sparked off the hood.

David leaned out and squeezed twice. The van's tire blew.

People screamed, fleeing the lot, their bags dropped, cars peeling out.

The assassin, Miguel Hernandez, ducked low and moved to better cover behind a sedan car.

David sprinted in zigzag manner and slid behind a truck. Shots chased the assassin like rain drops as bullets pinged off metal.

"Who sent you?" David shouted.

Miguel fired back, three rounds. "Doesn't matter. You're dead!"

David returned fire again and again, his bullets clipped the sedan's door. Miguel cursed, and shifted.

They traded shots, bullets chewing cars, shattering windows.

Miguel flanked left, aiming for a clear line.

David anticipated and rolled right, came up firing. Then he hit Miguel's shoulder. Blood sprayed.

Miguel grunted but kept coming with his pistol up. David charged and closed the distance. Tackled him over a hood. They crashed to the asphalt, their guns skidding away.

Fists flew. Miguel kneed David’s gut, air exploded out, but David quickly headbutted him, crunching his nose.

Miguel swung and caught David’s jaw. David countered with his elbow to Miguel’s throat.

Miguel choked and staggered. David grabbed him by the collar. "Who sent you? Name!"

Miguel gasped, blood bubbling. "I’m Miguel… Hernandez…"

"Who f*cking sent you?!" David shook him.

Miguel's eyes glazed. He slumped dead from the throat wound. David cursed under his breath. "Damn it."

He stood, breathing hard then wiped blood from his hands. He had no reasonable answers from the already dead guy, but he sensed more would come.

.

Javier Cruz stormed into Lena's apartment with two armed men flanking him. His face was filled with fury, his eyes red, fists clenched.

"You," he snarled. "You set me up."

Lena sat on her couch, glass of wine in hand, legs crossed. "Javier. Nice to see you too. Why don't you just come in without accusing me?"

His men shifted, looking uneasy, their eyes were down. They knew Lena's rep. They knew what she could do with a keyboard.

Javier slammed the door. "Two houses gone. Millions in product, and I hear FBI chatter pointing straight at my ops. You fed them intel, didn't you?"

Lena sipped her wine. "Me? Why would I do that? You owe me sixty grand from that last data drop. Maybe I should be the one yelling."

Javier leaned in close, his breath was hot. "Don't play games. You think you can get away with this? I'll end you."

His men stayed silent, hands near their guns, but no moves. They respected her too much. Feared her hacks more than their weapons.

Lena set her glass down. "Touch me, and your whole network goes public. Every deal and every name. You know my girls will do it once they know I’m dead."

Javier straightened, eyes burning. "If I find out you had a hand in this…"

"You won't," Lena said calmly. "Now get out."

He turned, slammed the door behind him.

Lena exhaled when they left. Picked up her wine.

*i***t,* she thought. *But if Wick keeps burning everything, I'll have to play smarter.*