Rodrigo, the sole commander of the hitn under the orders of the Jiménez Cartel, was captured along with so of his followers while attempting to flee the church. This ti, as he listened to the way these foreigners communicated, he realized it was an attack in revenge for everything they had done outside their country.
Anyone might have thought they were DEA or FBI agents, but these people who had captured them were anything but police.
As the leader of the hitn, Rodrigo was fully aware of the attacks the Jiménez Cartel was carrying out in partnership with the group known as the Twelve Monkeys.
These attackers were from the sa group they had encountered in New York. He knew it by the clothing bearing the SAMCRO symbols—symbols he had never seen anywhere outside the United States. But now, it seed they had crossed the line, retaliating against the foreign attacks.
Rodrigo knew what awaited him, but what puzzled him was: How does SAMCRO know who the leaders are?
His question was soon answered as the convoy he was traveling in slowed to a stop in front of an abandoned public school. The local police were currently busy responding to the various locations where shootouts had occurred.
The trucks parked quickly, and n dressed in black combat uniforms got out, dragging around eleven people with them. Each of the captured hitn had a cloth bag over their heads, completely obscuring their vision.
"The others were killed. We were discreet, and as soon as we finished, we ca straight here," William said, addressing a man with long hair, a beard, and a remarkably calm expression.
Behind that man stood ard individuals who remained completely silent, their eyes scanning the area, ready to repel any attack and ensure their boss didn’t have to lift a finger.
"Well, well, look what we have here." The man stepped into the lights illuminating the soccer field. The mont he appeared under the light, Dante, who had decided at the last minute to take part in the attack, opted for a more discreet role.
Everyone who saw Dante imdiately straightened their posture and showed their leader that what they had accomplished tonight was nothing for them.
Dante, of course, wanted to finish this quickly. He wanted to return to Susie and focus solely on his family. Yet, it seed that in every situation where he thought he wouldn’t face any more surprises, people like those in front of him always appeared to create problems.
After observing the hitn for a mont, Dante signaled the soldiers behind the kneeling figures to remove the cloth bags covering their faces.
When William ntioned that the hitn guarding the Jiménez Cartel’s warehouses were dead, Dante nodded silently.
Not everyone who decided to attack a xican cartel had been as fortunate as Dante, who was determined to inflict enough damage to gain the upper hand over the people in this place, to the point where he might even beco their new leader.
But he didn’t want to act on these ideas without careful planning.
Now that he had montarily left the Jiménez Cartel without weapons and with countless unanswered questions, it was ti to find out where they transported their drugs to stop them.
The sudden glare of lights shining directly into their faces forced the kneeling hitn to close their eyes for a mont, blinded by the intensity.
As the captives began to regain their sight, Dante observed them in silence, pacing back and forth while exchanging a subtle glance with William, who had insisted on accompanying him.
"I have good news for you and bad news that might disrupt your final monts of life. You’re in luck—I’ll start with the good news. All of you can live if you cooperate and answer our questions. The bad news? You could die at any mont during this conversation."
"But before I ask you a special question, I want you to understand why we’re gathered here today. You need to know why my people massacred nearly your entire group. Everyone should understand what happened. The ssage will be loud and clear, and all of you will wonder: Who the hell attacked my organization?"
"Are you not from opposing factions?"
Dante turned and fixed his gaze on a young woman who didn’t seem old enough to be part of this group of miscreants. Still, who really wants to belong to such a group? So are forced into it; others are cornered into circumstances they aren’t proud of.
Smiling slightly, Dante clapped his hands and said, "It seems you’re not understanding. We don’t care about the little crap you store in your vaults, nor are we interested in driving you out of Juárez. All that nonsense doesn’t matter to us. Can’t you think bigger than this?"
"You’re hitn, working for the Jiménez Cartel, which has been attacking gangs allied with SAMCRO at every opportunity. Because of you, we’re being investigated by the feds. That’s why I’m here—to send a ssage to those attacking and let every one of those sons of bitches out there know not to get in my line of sight."
Dante fell silent, closing his eyes to control the urge to kill them all and cut through the nonsense. Eventually, everything, including the cartel’s drug routes into the United States, would fall under his control.
After looking once more at the group of people consud by terror, Dante clapped his hands and said, "Co on, I can’t believe you didn’t know what your people did to mine. They killed many of my subordinates—lives that are no longer with us. So, you’ll have to answer for that."
Dante wasn’t a fool. He knew perfectly well that killing these hitn would bring him nothing but a short-term benefit while he was in Ciudad Juárez. For the cartels, hitn were as replaceable as a half-full glass of water. There were countless people lining up to beco cannon fodder for these organizations, which cared little about what happened to them.
But there was one thing these people could offer him—sothing that would serve him imnsely. That was, of course, information. Thanks to these interrogations, he had discovered that the Twelve Monkeys were an external force trying to harm his organization. In fact, their targeted terrorism against SAMCRO had now prompted the feds to open a case to investigate them.
That was why Dante was here. He wanted to solve his problems before they beca truly serious.
"I spent many days thinking about this, over and over again, trying to find a logical explanation for the stupid decision your employers made to attack . I ca up with two obvious answers: the first is that they’re simply stupid and attacked us without considering the consequences. The second is that they’re being backed by soone influential in Arica."
As Dante said this, he looked at Rodrigo, the leader of the hitn, and added, "Since you know my story and why we’re here, don’t make kill you."
Six n knelt on the ground alongside five won, their hands tied behind their backs, heads lowered, their faces filled with panic and unease. Standing silently behind them, several n held rifles aid at the back of their heads.
Dante walked slowly in front of the eleven captives, his eyes scanning them one by one—n of different backgrounds and won of all ages. They all bore the sa expression of fear.
"So..."
Dante leaned forward slightly, looking kindly at the five won in front of him, and said softly, "Who among you wants to tell about the location where cocaine is being passed into the United States? I can make the decision to let you go unhard! And finally, who the hell knows anything about the Twelve Monkeys?"
At these words, the eldest man in the group of captives narrowed his eyes slightly and looked at the seemingly kind man in front of him. Trembling, he raised his head and stamred, "I... I can say sothing. Please, don’t hurt any of us..."
The other captives beside him were montarily stunned, turning their heads one by one. Though they didn’t say much, their eyes were full of surprise.
Hearing that soone was willing to talk so quickly, Dante shifted his gaze to the elderly man, nodded in satisfaction, and said with a smile, "Very good. You truly are a smart man. Now, tell ..."
"I... You said it yourself—we don’t have any real value to your organization. And to be clear, we only received orders to guard insignificant warehouses where weapons, human trafficking victims, and cocaine ant for city distribution are stored."
"Oh, is that so?"
"Y-Yes... that’s right!" The elderly man looked at the figure before him, who seed oblivious to the situation, and a glimr of hope flashed across his weathered face. He quickly added, "If you don’t believe , you can ask any of my companions."
Bang!
Before he could finish speaking, Dante’s face suddenly darkened. In a matter of seconds, he drew the gun from his waist, aid at the elderly man’s head, and, under the horrified eyes of the ten others kneeling beside him, pulled the trigger without hesitation.
The elderly man, shot in the head, tilted backward, his wide-open eyes filled with confusion. He couldn’t comprehend why he had died in such a manner. Monts later, his body slumped forward and collapsed to the ground.
Staring coldly at the lifeless body, Dante turned his gaze to the remaining captives and said, "There are always people who don’t follow clear instructions and think others are fools. I hope—truly hope—that none of you are part of the idiot group, or you’ll end up like your dear, dead friend."
This ti, Dante wasn’t acting as a devoted fiancé or a dutiful son caring for his family. He was the true leader of the Sons of Anarchy. The man he once was had returned, and he would stay until every one of his enemies was annihilated.
Reviews
All reviews (0)