Matt’s eyes flickered toward him, but before he could feign interest in whatever profit margins were being discussed, his phone vibrated against the polished wood.
Eddie’s name flashed across the screen—a lifeline thrown into the sea of numbers and contracts. Matt excused himself with an apologetic nod no one believed and stepped out into the corridor. His heart pounded an ominous rhythm as he swiped to answer.
“Eddie,” he said tersely, every fiber braced for news that could shatter his world.
“Boss, Andy’s gone,” came Eddie’s voice, weighted with urgency.
Matt’s jaw instantly went into a tight viselike clench. “Find him,” he demanded. It wasn’t a request; it was an order etched in stone.
Eddie continued, his words tumbling out like a cascade of bad omens. “We found his stuff at his place, but the door’s been smashed in and the whole apartment’s turned upside down.”
A sickening sensation rose in Matt’s chest, an unwelcome guest that spelled out trouble. One name came to mind—a curse in itself—Carlos. That bastard must have been behind this.
“Move a team to search for him. Now!” Matt commanded, every syllable laced with iron.
The urgency propelled him back into the conference room, where he declared the meeting over with a finality that left no room for debate. As he exited the boardroom, the constricting worry for Andy squeezed tighter than any high-stakes deal ever could, every step fueled by adrenaline and fear—a cocktail he wasn’t accustomed to drinking. He tapped on his phone with an urgency that matched his heartbeat, activating the tracking app linked to Andy’s choker. A solitary dot blinked back at him from a sea of darkness—the desert swallowing it whole. He dialed James without hesitation.
“James,” he said when the call connected, “Andy’s been taken.”
There was a pause—a fraction of a second where James likely pieced together the gravity from Matt’s tone alone.
“We’ll need backup,” James replied coolly.
Matt nodded even though James couldn’t see it. “I’m calling William and Tory.”
The desert swallowed the predawn gloom, an expanse of sand and shadows that stretched to the horizon. Rudd’s hands were steady on the wheel as the sleek car sliced through the darkness, a beacon of urgency against the vast nothingness.
Matt sat like a coiled spring beside James, each man radiating a silent storm. Behind and ahead, the procession of vehicles bore his men, each one handpicked for loyalty and skill in situations precisely like this one. The tracking app on Matt’s phone was their compass in this barren landscape, guiding them toward what was left of Carlos’ empire—a dilapidated warehouse that squatted in the wasteland like a toad waiting for flies.
It loomed ahead, walls scarred by time and neglect. Shadows clung to its crevices, reluctant to part even as dim lights flickered from within—sickly yellow patches that hinted at movement and life. It was an ugly bruise on the landscape, but it held something precious—something Matt would reclaim with fury and fire.
The cars came to a halt in a choreographed dance of precision parking, their headlights cutting swathes through the gloom. Doors clicked open in unison, and Matt stepped out into the chilled air that smelled of dust and forgotten dreams.
Soon Tory’s car rolled up with William’s following suit. Both men emerged into the waning night, each with their own entourage of grim-faced soldiers. Mark’s absence was noted but not dwelled upon; he was already back in New York handling other matters.
James nodded at Tory—a greeting devoid of warmth or words—but when his gaze landed on William, it was clear that their usual beef simmered just beneath the surface. Yet this wasn’t the time for personal feuds; it was a time for unity against a common enemy.
“Good morning, gentlemen,” Tory greeted them with his characteristic charm, a smile playing on his lips as if they were about to embark on a leisurely breakfast rather than a rescue mission.
Matt nodded at both men. “Thanks for coming.”
“It’s what friends are for,” Tory responded with ease while William simply nodded—an unspoken understanding passing between them all.
As if summoned by an invisible signal, dozens more men joined them—black suits against the pale dawn light. Each man armed and alert, they looked like chess pieces ready to storm an enemy castle.
Matt’s instructions cut through the air—sharp and commanding. “Secure the perimeter. Shoot first if they’re notours.” His words were met with curt nods as his men fanned out like shadows come to life.
Tory turned back to Matt, James, and William with an arch of his brow. “Shall we?”
A tight knot clenched in Matt’s stomach—a tangle of nerves and anticipation that only Andy could unravel. His hands balled into fists at his sides as he felt every muscle tense in preparation for what lay ahead.
They approached the warehouse door—solid steel waiting to yield to their forceful entry. Subtlety wasn’t on tonight’s agenda, brute force was. Matt drew back his foot and unleashed years of pent-up aggression into one thunderous kick. The door gave way with a crash that echoed through the empty space beyond.
“Carlos!” Matt’s roar filled every inch of the forsaken building, rage searing his throat raw. “You just signed your death warrant taking Andy from me! I swear you’ll regret this until your last breath!”
The air inside the warehouse was thick with tension, the stench of desperation mingling with the metallic tang of firearms. Matt eyed the assembly of Mexican thugs coldly, each one brandishing their weapon with a bravado, the dark muzzles pointing at Matt and his friends with an eagerness that spoke volumes of their intention. They were ready to turn this grim pageant into a bloodbath at the twitch of a trigger finger.
He stood rooted to the spot, his friends flanking him in an unspoken formation of solidarity. The numbers were against them, sure, but Matt knew well that it wasn’t numbers that won wars—it was will. And his will was an unbreakable fortress.
