The phone buzzed on Rafael's desk.
He didn't look at the caller ID, only one man called him this early with that rhythm.
"Talk," Rafael said.
Caleb's voice came through, steady but edged with motion. "We've got a lead on Ortega. My source says he was seen near La Cumbre, outside Culiacán. We're on the road already."
Rafael straightened, one hand gripping the edge of his desk. "La Cumbre's a dead zone," he said. "No signal, less people. Cassimo's kind of ground."
"I know," Caleb replied. "But if Ortega's still breathing, this is where we'll find him."
Rafael's voice dropped an octave. "Bring him back alive."
"Understood."
The line went dead.
---
The highway to La Cumbre was a narrow road with thick brush on both sides, the hills rolling up like sleeping giants. Caleb sat in the back seat of the black SUV, eyes locked on the road ahead.
Two men rode with him;Luis, the driver,calm, thick-bearded, steady and Marco, younger, too eager, fingers drumming on his rifle.
Luis glanced at him in the rearview mirror. "You think Ortega really turned?"
Caleb didn't answer immediately. He stared out the window at the blur of green and dust. "Ortega's been with Navarro for four years," he said finally. "Men like that don't turn unless they're scared."
"Or greedy," Marco muttered.
Caleb's tone sharpened. "He's scared. Something's up.No one steals from my step brother and runs to spend it."
Marco gave a half-smile. "If he's breathing when we find him, that won't last long."
Caleb's gaze flicked toward him. "He stays alive. Rafael wants answers, not ashes."
Marco raised both hands in mock surrender. "Fine. Alive. I'll try."
Caleb looked away, but his jaw clenched. He didn't like the tone, didn't like anything about this trip. The silence that followed stretched heavy, broken only by the growl of the engine and the hiss of the tires on the cracked road.
As they neared La Cumbre, the landscape changed, thicker trees, scattered shacks, the faint echo of cicadas humming through the humid air.
Luis slowed the SUV, scanning the dirt path ahead. "We're here."
The place looked abandoned, a cluster of half-collapsed sheds and rusted trucks eaten by weeds. A hawk circled lazily above.
"Spread out," Caleb ordered quietly, stepping out of the car. His boots hit the dirt with a crunch.
The air smelled of dirt.
They moved in formation,silent, eyes scanning every broken window, every shadow.
Marco nudged open the door of a shack with his rifle. "Clear," he whispered.
Luis moved around the back, checking the old fuel tanks. "Nothing. Looks like....."
The crack of a rifle split the air.
Luis went down hard, blood spraying the wall behind him.
"Its an ambush!" Caleb barked, diving behind an overturned barrel. Bullets tore through the air, slamming into the walls, kicking up dust and splinters.
Marco cursed and returned fire, the echo of gunshots bouncing off the hills. Caleb peeked from behind the barrel, two figures moved through the brush, firing in short, practiced bursts. Cassimo's men, no doubt.
He aimed, squeezed the trigger. One went down instantly, the other stumbled and fell behind a crate.
Marco shifted position, shouting over the noise, "There's more to the left!"
"Cover me!" Caleb shouted back as Marco started shooting haywire trying to buy time for Caleb to move to a better position.
The firefight lasted seconds that felt like hours. The smell of gunpowder thickened the air. When the last echo died, the silence that followed was eerie,just the sound of wind and the soft rattle of an empty casing rolling in the dirt.
Caleb rose cautiously. Marco was crouched on the ground, panting, smoke curling from his rifle. Luis lay still, a dark pool of blood spreading beneath him.
"Fuck," Caleb muttered under his breath.
Marco pointed. "One's still moving!"
Caleb turned sharply,one of Cassimo's men, bleeding from the leg, was running deeper into the bush.
"Don't let him get away!"
Caleb sprinted forward, boots pounding the dirt. The man made it a few meters before Caleb's shot tore through his thigh, spinning him to the ground with a scream.
Caleb reached him in two strides, grabbed a fistful of his collar, and yanked him upright. The man's face was caked in sweat and blood, his eyes wild.
"Where's Ortega?" Caleb hissed.
The man spat, blood hitting Caleb's cheek. "Vete al infierno," he rasped. Go to hell.
Caleb pressed the gun under his chin. "One more time. Where is Ortega?"
The man smiled, a broken, ugly thing and before Caleb could react, he shoved the barrel of his own pistol into his mouth and pulled the trigger.
The blast echoed through the trees.
Caleb flinched as the body went limp in his grip, dead weight.
For a moment, he just stood there, chest heaving, the smell of cordite thick around him. Then fury hit like a wave.
He threw the corpse to the ground. "Mierda!!" He cusses and emptied the rest of his bullet into the dead man, each shot louder than the last until the slide clicked empty.
Silence.
Marco approached carefully. "Caleb..."
Caleb didn't move. His breath came ragged, his eyes hard. Then he straightened, holstered the gun, and turned toward the SUV.
"Get Luis's body," he said quietly. "We're going back."
Marco hesitated. "What about Ortega?"
Caleb looked out over the brush, his jaw tight. "He's out there," he said. "Or he's already dead. Either way… Cassimo just declared war."
They loaded up in silence.
As the SUV rolled away, Caleb's reflection caught in the side mirror, a man not just angry, but shaken, his loyalty burning like a fuse.
Behind them, smoke curled up from the ground where the bodies lay floating into the air as the sound of the SUV engine echoed.