Chapter 16 - The Phantom's GameThe melted silver bullet sat on Alejandro’s massive mahogany desk, a heavy paperweight securing a map of the northern smuggling routes.
It had been four days since Mateo’s birthday party. The message had been sent to El Fantasma, and the Cartel de las Sombras had responded the only way they knew how: with fire.
In the span of seventy-two hours, three of Alejandro’s private warehouses in Monterrey had been burned to the ground. Two of his supply convoys had been ambushed on the highway. The Phantom was testing the perimeter, looking for a weakness in the Ríos empire.
He wouldn't find one.
Valeria stood over the desk, her eyes scanning the complex logistical ledgers. She wasn't just a bride-to-be; she had become Alejandro’s most trusted advisor. Her mind, once trained to calculate hospital debts and stretch meager grocery budgets, was incredibly sharp. She saw patterns where seasoned cartel lieutenants only saw chaos.
"They aren't hitting us randomly," Valeria said, tracing a manicured finger along the red X’s marked on the map. "Look at the timeline. Monterrey on Monday. The highway on Tuesday. The safehouse on Wednesday."
Alejandro stood behind her, his large hands resting possessively on her hips. He leaned in, his cheek grazing hers as he looked at the map. "They are trying to cripple our cash flow to force a negotiation."
"No," Valeria said, turning her head slightly to look into his dark, dangerous eyes. "They are drawing a line. Every hit is moving further south. Away from the border. They want you to think they are pushing into the city, but they are leaving the northern crossing completely unguarded."
Alejandro’s eyes narrowed. He looked back at the map. She was right. The hits were a diversion. The Sombras were leaving the most lucrative port in Nuevo Laredo wide open. It was a massive, neon-lit trap.
"He wants me to go north," Alejandro rumbled, his voice low and deadly. "He wants me to personally lead the retaliation strike in Laredo. He wants me out of this house."
"Because he knows he can't beat you in a straight fight," Valeria said. "He wants you separated from your men. Separated from us."
The heavy oak doors of the study swung open. Hector stepped inside, his face grim.
"Patrón," Hector said tightly. "We just lost contact with the northern garrison. El Fantasma has taken the Laredo crossing. He is executing our men on a live feed."
Alejandro’s entire body went rigid. The air in the room grew ice-cold. He was a king, and a king could not allow his soldiers to be slaughtered without a response.
"Prep the convoy," Alejandro ordered, stepping away from Valeria. He strapped his shoulder holster over his black shirt. "Pull the old guard from Culiacán. We leave in ten minutes."
"Alejandro, it's a trap," Valeria warned, stepping into his path.
"I know it is, mi amor," he said, taking her face in his hands. His thumbs brushed over her cheekbones. "But if I don't face him, I look weak. And weakness in this business is a death sentence. I have to go."
Valeria’s heart hammered in her chest, but she didn't beg him to stay. She wasn't a frightened maid anymore. She was his equal.
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"Kill him," she whispered fiercely.
Alejandro smirked, a terrifying, predatory expression that promised absolute violence. He kissed her hard, a bruising promise of return. "Keep the gates locked. I will bring you his head."
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