Chapter 7 - THE INFERNO
The warehouse flooded with blinding, high-intensity halogen lights.
Suddenly, from the catwalks above, Hector Ramirez and three federal tactical officers stood up, their rifles aimed directly down at Diego and Valeria.
"Federal Police! Drop the weapon!" the lead officer's voice boomed through a megaphone.
Diego panicked. Instead of dropping the gun, he fired wildly up at the catwalk.
The bullets missed the officers but struck a highly pressurized, rusted oil filtration vat. The metal sparked. The residual chemicals and fermented olive oil ignited instantly, creating a massive wall of fire that separated Diego and Valeria from the exit.
"No!" Valeria screamed, coughing as thick black smoke filled the air.
Diego, realizing it was a trap, turned his gun toward me. But I was already moving. I tackled him to the concrete floor, knocking the gun from his hand. Years of pent-up anger, grief, and betrayal fueled every strike. I drove my fist into his jaw, shattering it, just as he had shattered my life.
He swung wildly, but I caught his arm, twisted it, and slammed him against the steel leg of the vat. He slumped to the floor, groaning in agony.
The fire was spreading fast. The tactical team was repelling down the walls to secure the perimeter.
I stood over my brother, looking down at him as the flames reflected in his terrified eyes.
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"You thought my calm was weakness, Diego," I shouted over the roaring fire. "It was the only thing keeping me from destroying you."
I grabbed Valeria by the arm, dragging her away from the flames, and threw her at the feet of the federal officers. I didn't do it to save her. I did it so she could rot in a cell.
