Chapter 6 - The Ransom
I grabbed Marcus by the collar and slammed him hard against the side of the idling woodchipper.
"What did you do to Brandon?" I roared, my patience completely exhausted.
Marcus coughed and smiled with bloodstained teeth.
He explained that he never intended to actually pay Brandon the two million dollar consulting fee.
Instead, Marcus had sent his cartel enforcers to the River Oaks mansion right after the DEA left.
They had kidnapped Brandon and Amber, taking them to a secure cartel warehouse near the ship channel.
Marcus revealed that the cartel leader, a man named Hector, was holding my son hostage.
Hector was demanding the entire fifty million dollars as a ransom for their safe return.
If I didn't deliver the funds by midnight, Hector was going to send me Brandon's head in a cardboard box.
I let go of Marcus in total disgust, watching him slump into the wet mud.
A dark, terrifying thought crossed my mind in that moment.
After the profound humiliation, the thirty slaps, and the betrayal, a part of me wanted to let the cartel keep him.
Brandon had tried to destroy my life, frame me for federal crimes, and steal my entire fortune.
Why should I bankrupt myself to save a monster I accidentally created?
Big John stepped up beside me, resting his massive hand on my shoulder.
"Whatever you decide to do, boss, the crew is with you," John said quietly.
I looked at the fifty loyal men standing in the rain, ready to die for a man who simply treated them fairly.
I compared their loyalty to the absolute treachery of my own flesh and blood.
I pulled out my burner phone and checked the time.
It was 8:00 PM, which gave me exactly four hours to make a decision.
I ordered John to tie Marcus up and throw him into the back of a tool truck.
I instructed the crew to meet me at our primary equipment yard on the east side of town.
I drove alone to the massive, empty equipment yard, surrounded by towering cranes and heavy machinery.
I sat in the dark cab of my truck, staring at the banking app on my phone showing fifty million dollars.
I realized I couldn't let my son die, not because he deserved to live, but because I was not a murderer.
I made the agonizing decision to transfer the entire fortune to the cartel's designated crypto wallet.
I typed in the authorization codes, tears of absolute frustration burning my eyes.
The screen loaded for a moment before displaying a massive red error message.
The transfer was completely blocked by a federal court order.
I looked up through the windshield and saw dozens of red and blue police lights completely surrounding my truck.
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An FBI agent stepped out of a black SUV and pointed a pistol directly at my face through the glass.
"Franklin Reeves, you are under arrest for laundering money for the Santiago Cartel," the agent announced over a loudspeaker.
