22. Suprise

22. Suprise
Don't be too happy when people say they love you and care for you. The real question is until when? Because just like season people change.

ALEJANDRO

Gabriella left early today, complaining of a headache. I suspected it was the lingering trauma from Sandra’s kidnapping. I couldn’t shake the worry—she shouldn’t be back at work if she wasn’t fully recovered. But convincing Gabriella to slow down was impossible. She was determined, never one to slack off.

I tried to push the thought aside, diving into some trivial paperwork, but my focus was short-lived. A sharp knock interrupted the quiet.

“Who is it?” I called out.

“It’s Carlos,” came the reply.

I waved him in. His face was tense, brow furrowed with concern.

“Boss, we’ve got a situation,” he said, voice low but urgent. “The Los Zetos Cartel—they’ve captured some of our guys up in the High Mountains. They want to negotiate. We need to move fast. It’s going to be a rough trip.”

I stayed calm, not letting the gravity of the situation rattle me. “Carlos, take a breath. We’re not going anywhere without a plan.”

I spent a few moments weighing our options. The terrain. The numbers. The risks. A plan slowly took shape, and I laid it out for Carlos. He nodded, eyes sharp with understanding, and went to prepare the cash and the bag.

The road to the mountains was long and punishing. Six hours of winding through dirt paths and uneven terrain, the land rover groaning beneath us. By the time we arrived, the sky was a thick blanket of darkness. Carlos suggested we stop for the night at a roadside motel. I agreed—it would be smarter to face them in daylight, without giving them the upper hand.

The motel’s sign flickered dimly in the distance:
La Reina de la Noche
. The Night Queen. An apt name.

Inside, the atmosphere was thick with stale air and the faint scent of fried food. We ate in silence—two beers, some Colombian fast food—and then went over the plan one more time. Tomorrow was going to be intense. Worrying about it wouldn’t help, so we called it a night.

At dawn, we were up. A quick shower, a light breakfast, and we hit the road again. Two more hours of driving into the deeper parts of the forested mountains, where the trees grew so tall their branches tangled overhead, cutting off most of the sunlight. It felt like stepping into another world, one where the shadows were alive, and the rules of the land belonged to the cartel.

We parked a safe distance from their hideout, the forest pressing in from all sides. I checked my Beretta M9, its cold weight reassuring in my hand. Carlos grabbed the bag. This was risky. A suicide mission by anyone’s standards. But in this line of work, big risks were the only way to survive.

As we approached the safe house, a guard stopped me. He frisked me, his eyes narrowing when he felt the gun.

“Hand it over,” he snapped in Spanish, his fingers twitching toward the assault rifle slung over his shoulder.

I met his glare with a smirk. “Then why don’t you hand me that AK-47 you’re hugging so tight, darling?”

His face flushed with anger, but before he could respond, a deep voice cut through the tension.

“Let him through.”

The voice belonged to Marco Silva, the leader of Los Zetos. He stepped out from the shadows, middle-aged but still radiating a dangerous calm. I had hoped he’d show up in person. It made my plan all the more effective.

I shook his hand, flashing the Beretta as I did. “Can’t be too careful these days,” I said, smirking.

Marco’s eyes were cold. “What do you have for me?”

“First, my men,” I replied, my voice firm.

He wasn’t having it. “No games. First, what I asked for.”

I nodded to Carlos, who handed over the bag. Marco’s men pounced on it, inspecting the contents. Satisfied, they finally released my four operators. Marco’s smile was mocking as he said, “Aren’t you going to say goodbye?”

I ignored him, ushering my men and Carlos outside. Once we were clear, I pulled out my phone and tapped the screen.

The explosion shook the forest, a fiery bloom consuming the safe house. The screams were instant—loud, piercing, then suddenly gone as the flames swallowed everything.

“Goodbye, once and for all,” I muttered, watching the inferno rage behind us. "No one messes with the Sinaloa Cartel."

Carlos floored the gas, steering us away from the smoldering wreckage. He glanced at me, a smile of admiration tugging at his lips. “That was genius, boss.”

The men in the backseat were still in shock, but one finally spoke, his voice thick with gratitude. “Pensamos que no sobreviviríamos, eres como Dios para nosotros. Nunca podremos recompensarte por esto.”

"( We thought we won't survive, you are like God for us. We can never repay you for this.)”

“Siempre has mostrado lealtad hacia el cartel,” I replied quietly. “Yo soy el que está en deuda contigo, no al revés.”

"( You have always shown loyalty towards Sinaloa Cartel. I am the one in your debt and not the other way around.)" I said firmly.

The rest of the drive was silent, but my mind was racing, replaying the events. The plan had worked perfectly—perhaps even better than I’d expected.

The real trick had been in the details. Marco demanded $20 million, but what he got was counterfeit. The North Koreans had supplied me with the fake bills, their expertise in forgery unmatched. Their regime depended on criminal enterprises like this, and the counterfeit was so flawless it could only be detected by someone with CIA-level tools.

But the money was just the backup plan. The real masterpiece had been the bomb. A polymer-thin, undetectable explosive developed by my own R&D team—kids plucked from the streets with nothing to lose and brilliance to burn. For years, we had worked in secret, refining our techniques, staying ahead of the game.

This bomb had taken five years to perfect. Hidden inside the lining of the bag, its circuits were concealed beneath a layer of ammonium nitrate, impossible to find without knowing exactly where to look. The Bluetooth trigger was connected to my phone, and with a single tap, the place was turned to ashes.

The first test run. And it had been flawless.

As we left the mountains behind, I allowed myself a small smile. This was the message I’d wanted to send. A warning to the underworld.

No one messes with the Sinaloa cartel.

And survives.

As I checked my phone for a signal, my eyes drifted to the lock screen, and there it was—the date. It was my birthday. In the midst of everything going on, I had completely forgotten. No messages, no calls. Even Carlos, my best friend, hadn't wished me. A twinge of loneliness gnawed at me. I work so hard that sometimes I forget about life outside of business. Maybe they were pretending. Maybe there was a surprise waiting for me later—at least, that’s what I hoped.

Carlos and I had been driving for hours. The trip stretched nearly eight, with breaks every so often to rest and switch drivers. By the time we finally pulled up to the mansion gates, the sun was setting, casting everything in shadows. It was nearly 7 p.m., and the place was pitch dark—no lights, no movement. The eeriness of it all made me reach for the handgun tucked in my pocket, safety off.

We approached cautiously, but the security guards at their posts reassured us. They hadn't noticed anything wrong. Maybe it was just a power outage. One of them opened the front door for us, and as I stepped inside, the lights blazed to life, illuminating the entire room. Decorations hung everywhere, and a crowd of smiling guests stood waiting.

Relief flooded me. It was just a surprise. I re-engaged the safety on my gun and slid it back into my pocket.

Sandra came bounding toward me, wrapping her arms around me in a tight hug. "Happy birthday, big brother!" she exclaimed with her usual energy.

Everyone followed with birthday wishes—Mom, Dad, my little brother, Carlos, and even Gabriella. Gabriel, the latest addition to my business circle, also greeted me, though he seemed a bit off when Sandra was near. His eyes shifted awkwardly whenever she was around. They didn’t know each other, did they? Something felt off about the way he looked at her, stirring a faint unease within me.

Mom suggested I change and freshen up. A new set of clothes was already laid out in my room. As I showered and dressed in the deep purple suit and crisp white shirt, I found myself smiling. They hadn’t forgotten after all. The decorations and the effort were all perfect, reflecting my taste to the smallest detail.

When I returned to the party, Gabriella was waiting nearby. She approached shyly and held out a gift wrapped in shiny gold paper. "It’s not much," she said, "but I wanted to give you something special for your 30th."

I smiled and told her to call me Alejandro, not “sir,” especially at home. With growing excitement, I unwrapped the package to reveal a beautiful golden Parker pen. Though not extravagant, the meaning behind it made the gift priceless.

“It’s beautiful,” I murmured. Gabriella took the pen, clipped it onto my jacket pocket, and smiled—a radiant, heart-melting smile.

Before I could say anything, Sandra appeared, pulling me to the center of the room for the cake-cutting ceremony. A three-tiered chocolate cake awaited, shaped with intricate Aztec designs. I was impressed by the craftsmanship, and before I could ask, Sandra explained, “Gabriella thought of the design. She said it caught her eye when she first moved here.”

After we cut the cake and had a few glasses of champagne, the music began. A track by DJ Snake filled the room, its romantic rhythm flowing through the air. Sandra nudged me playfully. “Go dance with Gabriella! Don’t waste this moment,” she whispered, winking at me.

🎵I used to believe We were burning on the edge of something beautiful Something beautiful...🎵

I approached Gabriella and, without hesitation, led her onto the dance floor. We moved gracefully, our bodies in perfect harmony, matching each beat and change in tempo. It felt as though we were floating, and in those moments, everything else faded away. The guests, the room, the music—it all disappeared. It was just the two of us, lost in a world of our own.

🎵Don’t you give up, nah-nah-nah I won’t give up, nah-nah-nah Let me love you...🎵

As the music swelled, I wanted to capture this moment, lock it away and keep it safe. For a second, I wondered—am I falling in love? The thought made me cringe, but I quickly pushed it aside and let the rhythm carry me again.

The party had been unforgettable, every moment of my 30th birthday etched into my memory like a vibrant tapestry. The laughter, the toasts, the warm glow of friendship—it was a night I knew I’d carry with me forever.

But as the final guest slipped out the door, leaving the house in a quiet hum, I found myself retreating to my room, eager to shake off the weight of the evening and relax. I changed into my nightwear, the familiar comfort of soft fabric against my skin a welcome reprieve. That’s when the door flew open.

Gabriella burst in, breathless, unannounced. She rushed toward me, her arms wrapping around my waist before I could even register her presence. Her embrace was sudden, almost frantic, but brief. She stepped back just as quickly, cheeks flushed with both excitement and embarrassment.

"I'm so sorry," she stammered, her voice shaky, her eyes wide with exhilaration.

“An email just came through. Our company secured the biggest deal of the year. I was so excited I had to tell you—”

Before she could finish, I pressed a finger gently to her lips, silencing her nervous rambling. Her breath caught, and for a heartbeat, we simply stood there, the space between us charged with something unspoken, something raw. Without fully understanding why, I pulled her closer, my body instinctively moving toward hers. The warmth of her skin radiated through the thin fabric, igniting something deep within me.

Her eyes locked with mine—wide, searching, vulnerable—and I knew in that instant there was no turning back. Slowly, almost hesitantly, I leaned in, my heart pounding in my chest. The moment our lips met, the world outside that room disappeared. Time slowed to a crawl, and the only thing that existed was the quiet, steady rhythm of our kiss.

This kiss was nothing like the fleeting one we had shared before, the one stolen in a moment of confusion and unspoken desires. This was deliberate, slow, and laced with the weight of every unsaid word, every glance that had lingered too long, every shared smile that had meant more than either of us had dared to admit.

At first, there was a slight hesitation in her touch, a flutter of uncertainty in the way her lips moved against mine. But then, as if some invisible barrier had crumbled, she gave in. Her hands slid up to the back of my neck, fingers tangling in my hair, pulling me deeper into the kiss. The intensity of her response matched mine, and in that moment, we were no longer holding back. Each breath we shared, each soft sound that escaped our lips, was a conversation all its own—one without words, but full of meaning.

When we finally parted, the air between us felt different, thick with the weight of what had just happened. We stood there, breathing heavily, our faces inches apart, sharing a quiet smile that was both shy and knowing.

"Goodnight," she whispered, her voice barely audible, before retreating to her room, leaving me standing there, still reeling from the intensity of the moment.

The night had changed everything, and I knew nothing would ever be the same again.