Chapter 5 - The Serpent in the Garden
The sun was just beginning to streak the South Texas sky with brilliant ribbons of gold and amber when the heavy oak doors of the study burst open.
Tony Rossi, Roman’s head of security, stepped into the room, holding a heavy leather briefcase. His face was grim, carved out of granite.
“Boss,” Tony said, nodding respectfully to Ava before turning his gaze to Roman. “We hit the address in Corpus Christi. Arthur Vance was hiding out in a beachside condo registered under a shell corporation.”
Roman stood up instantly, his entire body shifting from grieving father back into the apex predator of the South Texas border.
“Is he breathing?” Roman asked, his voice cold enough to freeze blood.
“Barely,” Tony replied, tossing the briefcase onto the desk. It popped open, spilling thick stacks of financial ledgers, digital flash drives, and passport documents across the mahogany. “He tried to flush a hard drive down the toilet. My boys stopped him. He’s secured in the basement safehouse on the north pasture.”
Roman looked down at the documents, then glanced at Ava.
“Stay here,” Roman said softly, placing a heavy, reassuring hand on her shoulder. “I have a debt to collect.”
“No,” Ava said, standing up with a sudden, unyielding strength that surprised even herself. Her eyes flashed with a fire born of six years of stolen motherhood. “I’m coming with you.”
Ten minutes later, they descended into the underground concrete bunker beneath the ranch’s main equipment barn.
The air smelled of damp earth, diesel, and old iron. At the far end of the reinforced steel corridor sat a windowless interrogation room illuminated by a single overhead bulb.
Arthur Vance—now an old man with thinning white hair, a trembling jaw, and an expensive silk shirt stained with sweat—sat handcuffed to a bolted metal chair.
When the heavy steel door swung open and Roman Garza stepped into the room, Vance shrank back as far as the handcuffs would allow, whimpering in terror.
“R-Roman,” Vance choked out, his eyes wide. “Please... I’m an old man. I can explain—”
Roman didn't say a word. He walked up to the chair, grabbed Vance by the collar of his silk shirt, and hauled him half out of his seat with one hand, slamming him back against the concrete wall with a sickening thud.
“You had one job,” Roman whispered, his voice like the grinding of tectonic plates. “Keep my family safe. Instead, you sold my daughter’s twin out the back door, burned my clinic to hide your tracks, and left me in the dark for six years.”
“I didn't sell her!” Vance gasped, clawing desperately at Roman’s wrist. “It was insurance! A hedge! The syndicate in Monterrey was putting pressure on me—they wanted leverage against your shipping empire! I had to split the twins—I kept the boy... no, wait, I placed the girl with a private broker—!”
“Where is the other one?” Roman roared, shaking the doctor like a rag doll. “Where is my son?!”
Before Vance could answer, a sharp, cold voice cut through the concrete room.
“He doesn't have your son, Roman.”
Ava stepped out of the shadows near the doorway. Her face was pale, but her eyes were locked onto Vance with absolute, lethal clarity.
Vance blinked, squinting through his glasses at her. “Who... who are you?”
“Look at my face, Arthur,” Ava said, stepping into the harsh light of the overhead bulb. “Look at the girl whose baby you stole six years ago at the county hospital in San Antonio.”
Vance’s jaw dropped. The color completely drained from his face. “You... you were supposed to be sedated for three days... the file said—”
“The file was a lie,” Ava said, her voice trembling with rage. “You swapped my baby girl with Roman’s. You split twins across two different worlds to protect your little black-market syndicate. So tell me right now, before Roman finishes what he started... where did you send my other child?”
Vance looked between Roman’s murderous glare and Ava’s unyielding fury. He realized, with absolute, crushing certainty, that there was no way out.
He slumped forward, weeping hysterically.
“Monterrey,” Vance sobbed. “Don Emilio in Monterrey has him. He’s being raised as collateral in a cartel compound across the river. I swear to God, that’s all I know!”
Roman’s grip tightened for one final second before he shoved Vance back into the metal chair with enough force to nearly snap the bolts from the floor.
May you like
He turned to Tony Rossi, who stood silently by the door.
“Assemble the strike team,” Roman ordered, his voice dropping into a lethal, terrifying whisper. “We’re crossing the border tonight. And we’re bringing our boy home.”
