A light rain began to fall from the sky, casting a heavy gloom over Juárez. The body of Mario Sánchez hung from the overpass beside the city hall—everyone knew something big was about to happen.
Mario Sánchez had been Laita Sánchez's only son, the heir apparent to the Sánchez cartel. If nothing unexpected had happened, he would've become the next don. But now he was dead. The cartel was sure to retaliate with ferocity. Everyone—the government, the other four major drug cartels, the public, the media—was waiting to see what would happen next. Would the Sánchez cartel take revenge only on Lofta, or would everyone be dragged into the fire?
Soon after Mario's body was discovered, the skies over Juárez darkened with persistent drizzle that lasted until noon and showed signs of becoming heavier. It was as if even God mourned the tragedy unfolding.
Outside the Sánchez cartel, the other five cartels began withdrawing their forces, bracing for the coming storm. Tension inside the Lofta cartel reached its peak. They had been investigating internally for a while and still couldn't determine who had actually killed Mario—but regardless of whether it was their doing, they knew they were going to take the fall.
Somewhere in the countryside, Owen and Sam's team sat silently together, waiting. Waiting for the explosion, waiting for the Sánchez cartel to make a move. All weapons and gear had already been laid out in perfect order on a long table in the middle of the room. As soon as chaos erupted in Juárez, it would be time for them to act.
Maryland Estate
Dolok and his men had gone out and returned with Mario's body. The coffin was opened. Mario lay inside, his face and body covered in bruises, a silent testament to the torture he had endured. Laita Sánchez stared at the face of his only son, and it felt like his heart was bleeding.
His wife had died long ago, assassinated by an enemy. All that was left was Mario. Despite being a ruthless drug lord, Laita was a deeply traditional man—more so than most Mexicans. He valued family. No matter how busy he was, he always made time every week to spend with his wife and son.
He had killed countless others—fathers, husbands, sons. Now it was his turn to suffer. His wife had died by a rival's hand, and now so had his son. He no longer understood what his vast drug empire was even for. Money had become meaningless to him—just numbers. Power had lost its appeal. What he valued most was family, and God had taken that away from him. Perhaps this was the Lord's punishment.
Laita said nothing. His face was emotionless, unreadable. No one knew what the head of the empire was thinking. Only his younger brother Dolok could faintly sense the silent rage, the world-destroying obstinance and despair radiating from him.
For a fleeting moment, Dolok felt genuine sorrow for his brother, and grief for his nephew. But in the same moment, a tiny sprout of ambition cracked through the soil of his heart.
He had long known that his brother's heart was no longer in the business. Bit by bit, Laita had been grooming Mario to take over. Dolok had no issue with that. Laita had even asked him to help guide Mario—something Dolok had agreed to.
But now Mario was dead. And Dolok was the only family Laita had left. A fire kindled in his chest. That seat beneath his brother, once so far out of reach... suddenly didn't seem so distant anymore.
Beep beep beep—
The shrill ringtone of a phone pierced the silence.
Laita slowly looked away from Mario's body and answered.
"Laita, it's Guillermo. Listen to me—this is a misunderstanding—"
"Misunderstanding? You call this a misunderstanding? You kill my son and then call it a fucking misunderstanding? Prepare for my vengeance. I'll show you what a mistake like this really costs!"
Laita exploded with fury, screaming hysterically into the phone. On the other end, Guillermo Lofta—head of the Lofta cartel—listened with a dark expression as the line went dead. He'd suspected from the beginning that this whole situation wasn't as it seemed. He had hoped to explain, but now it was too late. Laita Sánchez had already decided his son's death was Lofta's doing. There was no point in talking now. They'd have to fight—and talk afterward, if there was anyone left to talk.
"I want revenge. I want revenge…"
Laita was nearly hyperventilating. Dolok approached him. "Yes. We'll get revenge. Leave it to me. But… how far do you want this to go?"
Dolok needed to know how far Laita was willing to take this. A full-on war between two cartels was no joke.
"I want the name Lofta to vanish from this world."
"I understand."
Dolok nodded. No matter how impossible the task, he would obey. He turned and left with his elite soldiers. Rain was now coming down harder, and although it was just midday, the sky looked like dusk.
A convoy of over a dozen vehicles rolled out of the estate. That movement was captured by a military satellite thousands of miles above the Earth. The satellite was under Becky's control, and its level of access was top-tier—even in the rain, visibility was hardly affected.
"Owen, they're on the move."
Becky's voice came through the radio sitting on the long table. Everyone heard it.
Showtime.
The team donned their gear. The whirling of rotor blades cut through the rain as droplets scattered from the blades. Fully armed, the squad mounted the side benches of the two Little Bird helicopters. Owen was the last to board. He buckled in, tapped the fuselage wall, and the choppers lifted off.
On the ground, the convoy pulled away from the estate. In the skies, the two Little Birds closed in fast.
This time, the helicopters Sam had managed to acquire weren't outfitted with weapon systems. There were no standard 7.62mm machine guns, no 30mm cannons, no 70mm rocket pods. Just the side benches for troop deployment—each side could carry three operators.
Compared to the clumsy Black Hawks, which could only hover for rope descents, the agile Little Birds had many advantages. They could land quickly in narrow streets, drop off their teams, and take off again before the enemy could react.
The helicopters flew at high speed. Howl and Heartbeat piloted them expertly toward the Maryland Estate. They had been waiting for this opportunity for a long time.
The estate, as the stronghold of the Sánchez cartel, was heavily fortified—far too strong for their small team to assault head-on. Their best chance was now—while it was vulnerable.
Although Dolok was also on their hit list, Laita Sánchez was the real prize.
Soon, they reached their destination. Two kilometers from the estate, in a patch of woods, the choppers found a clearing and began to descend.
Now, the Little Bird's unique strengths would come into play.
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