AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Our operations have always strived for restraint, guided by an unwritten honor code, a reflection of the values instilled by my parents. "Marred by its nature, our life's work has been a burden I've borne silently," I recall my mother's mantra to my father, a beacon guiding our every action towards redemption and the pursuit of a greater good.
Taking a moment to gather myself, I step into the open, my men arrayed behind me, a formidable force against the darkness. Across from us, El Diablo comes forward, and we meet in the middle, the distance between us charged with an unspoken challenge.
Despite my height advantage, El Diablo stands unyielding, the menace he embodies oozing from him. His opening provocations, designed to unsettle, only serve to strengthen my resolve. An attempt to belittle me, referencing my heritage and my father, is met with silence on my part.
"Are you mute, boy?" he taunts with a sneer.
"No, I am not. I just don't feel like you've said anything of substance that warrants a response," I retort, maintaining my ground.
His response, a sinister smile that doesn't reach his eyes, betrays his confidence. "La Serpiente Dorada means nothing here," he remarks silkily, attempting to undermine the alliances and values we've fought to uphold.
But his words, intended to intimidate, fall flat against the shield of my conviction. Closing the gap between us, I meet his gaze head-on, my response a defiance of his authority and threats. "You've mistaken me for someone who cares."
At that moment, the air thick with mistrust and unspoken threats, my decision is swift and unyielding. The gun in my hand rises almost of its own accord, and with a precision born of necessity, I fire. The shot, a singular echo in the ensuing silence, marks the end of El Diablo's reign of terror.
As I turn away, the reality of what I've done settles within me—a burden I accept, but one I can't afford to dwell on. The return fire that briefly erupts is quickly quelled by my team, thanks to our preparedness and resolve.
We've secured a victory today in the ongoing battle against the darkness that seeks to engulf the light. But I'm acutely aware of the transient nature of peace within this shadowy world we navigate. New threats will emerge, and alliances will be tested. Still, we stand victorious for now, guardians of the fragile balance we fight to maintain.
The weight of the day's events settles heavily upon me as our small team flies into Baguio. I lean back, closing my eyes, the mantra of my therapist whispering through my mind. Just breathe, Marco. The act of taking another man's life, regardless of the justification, carves a deep, indelible mark on my soul. El Diablo's demise, though a victory in the grand scheme, doesn't come without its own set of burdens. The complexities of money, power, and connections that ensnare our lives are undeniable. Yet, beneath the surface, I grapple with the hope that our actions have a nobler purpose. As sleep finally claims me, it's with a heart heavy with conflict and a mind fraught with questions.
Awakening in Caba to Joshua's gentle nudge, the transition from the plane to Don Melchor's residence is blurry. The moment I step inside, familiar voices beckon me, stirring a whirlwind of emotions. The shock of seeing my father among them sends me rushing forward. "Papá?" My voice, laced with disbelief and relief, cuts through the air. His immediate embrace, laden with understanding and pride, washes over me.
Papá's whispered affirmation, "Mijo, you've done well," unlocks something within me, allowing tears to freely flow. This moment of vulnerability, shared among the men I hold dearest, is evidence of the strength of our bonds.
Then, amidst the familial reunion, a movement catches my eye. "Pia?" Breaking free, I close the distance between us, enveloping her in an embrace that speaks volumes about our shared trials and enduring love. Her strength, both physical and emotional, astounds me anew, and her tears mirror my own.
The interruption of our moment, a throat cleared in the background, brings us back to the present. Pia introduces me to her father, Don Angelo Mendoza, whose visage blends paternal concern and underlying unease. My instinctively defensive posture shifts subtly as my family aligns beside me, a united front.
Papá's announcement, designating me as Don Marco, stirs a mix of surprise and responsibility within me. The implications of this title, traditionally reserved for the eldest, hint at a new chapter unfolding. Gabriel's knowing look confirms my suspicions of his involvement, a silent acknowledgment of the trust and expectations now placed upon my shoulders.
Turning to Don Angelo, I extend a hand, not as a question but as a declaration of intent regarding Pia and our future. "We're getting married," I state, my gaze unwavering. I seek not his permission but his blessing, for Pia's sake. Though unnecessary, his consent smooths the path forward, a gesture of unity in the face of all we've endured.
As we finalize the plans for a small civil ceremony, per Pia's wish, the relief and joy rippling through us are palpable. This decision, emblematic of our journey and struggles, is ours alone. It is a foundation upon which we'll build our future, supported by the love and strength of our families.
Chapter Fifteen
Fifteen
In the heart of Don Melchor's home, the air is thick with tension and unspoken promises. Standing amidst the formidable Cervantes men and facing my father, I am caught in a storm of emotions. Relief and love for Marco mingle with a growing apprehension as we broach the subject of our union. My father's voice slices through the momentary silence, laying bare his conditions. "No harm shall come to my son, Gerald. That is my demand," he states, puffing his chest with a misplaced sense of authority that grates my nerves.
Marco's reaction is immediate, a palpable hostility between him and my father. "Your son is a monster," Marco hisses, stepping into my father's space, his protective instinct flaring. Diego and Gabriel flank him, a united front against the rising storm.
"No. Gerald will face the consequences of his own actions. Along with your wife," Marco declares, briefly looking at me. His gaze is a mix of resolve and reassurance, but I am frozen, caught in the moment's gravity.
I step forward, my voice breaking the charged silence. "Marco," I begin, determined to make my stance known, "there's no need for vengeance. My father—" But Marco cuts me off, his words slicing through my plea.
"Your father may not have wielded the whip himself, but he shares the blame. What you endured happened under his roof," Marco states firmly, his conviction unyielding.
I struggle to maintain my composure, my own resolve firming. "First, may this be the last time you cut me off. I'm not a child, Marco. Remember, we are equals," I assert, each word a testament to our partnership and my own strength.
As my father continues to insist on Gerald's protection, my heart battles a myriad of emotions. "Secondly," I press on, "I don't want any harm to come to my mother and brother—not by your hands. They will face the consequences of their actions, but it must be through justice, not revenge."
Our locked gazes speak volumes, a silent conversation of wills, fears, and deep-seated love. The standoff reflects the complexity of our situation, a delicate balance of heart, duty, and justice.
Don Antonio steps in with the grace of a seasoned diplomat, yet his words carry an undeniable authority. "Marco, mijo, let's take a moment to think this over with Pia." His tone leaves no room for argument; it's a directive cloaked in a suggestion.
Don Melchor pauses the escalating situation before I can voice my tangled thoughts. "It's been quite a day. Perhaps we should all sit down for a meal. The staff has prepared something special." The welcome reprieve offer momentarily eases the room's charged atmosphere.
