Mendoza, his face a mask of fury, snarled, "You! You're the gringo who dared lay a hand on my son?"
Ethan stood at ease, his Glock poised with an almost negligent grace, a smirk teasing the corners of his lips. "Ah," he drawled, "so my reputation preceded me. Good. Saves us the awkward formalities."
One of Mendoza's lieutenants, a hulking brute with a face like a roadmap of violence, shifted nervously, his hand inching towards his own weapon. Ethan's gaze flickered towards him, a silent warning that spoke volumes.
"I wouldn't," Ethan advised softly, his voice a silken threat. "Not unless you have a particular fondness for... lead poisoning."
The lieutenant froze, his hand hovering in mid-air. Mendoza, however, seemed unfazed by the subtle threat.
""You crippled my son, and you—" he screamed, his voice thick with rage.
"Civic duty," Ethan interrupted smoothly. "Just teaching the boy a bit of respect. Something a father like yourself clearly neglected." He tilted his head, feigning curiosity. "Or perhaps... discipline isn't your strong suit?"
Mendoza's hands curled into fists, his face a mask of fury barely restrained by his own sense of control. "You'll pay for this. You and that woman—"
Ethan's expression darkened, a predatory smile playing at his lips. "Let's leave her out of this, shall we?" His voice dropped to a near-whisper, a dangerous edge to every word. "This is just between us… men. Unless, of course, you're too afraid to handle it alone?"
Mendoza growled, his hand twitching towards his own weapon. "You're a dead man—"
"Such a lack of imagination," Ethan sighed dramatically. "Besides," he added, a glint of amusement in his eyes, "wouldn't you rather see how this little... parenting experiment... unfolds?"
Mendoza, his pride wounded and his fury reaching a boiling point, snarled, "You think this is a game, gringo? You dare mock me in my own home?" He hesitated for a fleeting moment, a flicker of doubt crossing his face as he glanced at Cavill, who remained an impassive observer. Then, with a decisive nod, Mendoza gestured sharply towards the lieutenant. "Kill him. Now."
The lieutenant, emboldened, reached for his gun—but Ethan was faster. His Glock barked once, the crack of the shot splitting the air, and the lieutenant crumpled to the ground, a dark bloom spreading across his chest.
Chaos erupted. Mendoza's men scrambled for their weapons, but Ethan was already in motion, his body a blur as he moved with lethal precision. Every shot was measured, calculated—lethal.
Mendoza dove behind his desk, returning fire wildly, his shots ricocheting off walls and furniture. Ethan, taking cover behind an overturned armchair, returned fire with methodical ease. A painting shattered, glass raining down as Ethan fired again, dropping another of Mendoza's men.
The study door burst open, two more guards flooding in, rifles raised. But Ethan, his senses heightened by years of training and honed instincts, was ready. In a fluid motion, he rolled from cover, his Glock spitting bullets with deadly accuracy. Both guards crumpled, joining the growing pile of bodies on the floor.
The room was a scene of carnage, the air thick with the smell of gunpowder and blood. Mendoza, his bravado evaporated, cowered behind his desk, his empty gun clattering uselessly to the floor.
Ethan, seeing this, quickly trained his Glock on the cowering gang leader and pulled the trigger. The silenced shot echoing through the room, a final punctuation mark on Mendoza's reign of terror.
Cavill, seizing the opportunity in the chaos, sprinted towards the study door, firing a parting shot that grazed Ethan's arm. Ethan cursed, returning fire, but Cavill had already disappeared into the hallway.
Cursing, adrenaline spiking, Ethan was on his feet in an instant. He barely registered the sting in his arm as he gave chase, Glock in hand, his senses on high alert.
He burst into the grand hallway, the mansion's opulence reduced to a battlefield, blood staining the polished marble floors. Ahead, Cavill's footsteps echoed, disappearing into the night beyond the mansion's entrance.
Ethan fired, the shot narrowly missing Cavill's leg. Cavill stumbled but regained his footing and burst through the front doors, disappearing into the night. Ethan followed, his pursuit relentless.
Ethan sprinted after him, his breath coming fast but steady. He reached the driveway just in time to see Cavill dive into the driver's seat of a Mercedes-Benz, his shoulder bleeding but his resolve clear.
Ethan hesitated for a moment, his eyes scanning the luxury vehicles parked there – a McLaren, a Mercedes-Benz SLR, a Range Rover, a G-Wagon, a Bentley Continental GT, and an Aston Martin Vanquish. He could summon the upgraded Range Rover, but a sudden impulse took hold. He wanted to try something different.
With a flick of his wrist, he discreetly stored the other luxury cars in his inventory, grabbing their keys from a nearby hook on the wall. He then approached the Aston Martin Vanquish, its sleek lines and powerful engine calling to him. He slid into the driver's seat, the luxurious leather interior enveloping him.
"Nice," he muttered, a smirk playing on his lips.
He turned the key, the engine roared to life with a throaty growl. He slammed his foot on the accelerator, the Aston Martin surged forward, its tires screeching as it sped out of the car park.
"Iris," he said, his voice filled with determination, "Find him."
"Already on it, Sir," Iris replied. "He's heading north, towards the mountains."
Ethan's eyes flicked to the GPS, where Cavill's red dot blinked a few kilometers ahead. His grip tightened on the wheel as he pushed the car faster, the highway blurring beneath him. The chase was on.
Ahead, the Venezuelan countryside spread out in dark, undulating hills. The Aston Martin tore through the night, its engine roaring with untamed power. Cavill's taillights flickered in the distance, like a challenge beckoning Ethan closer.
But Cavill wasn't going down without a fight. Without warning, his car veered off the highway, skidding onto a narrow dirt road. Ethan followed, the Aston Martin's sleek form bouncing over the rough terrain, its tires kicking up clouds of dust.
The tension climbed as the chase intensified, the landscape closing in around them, the trees casting long shadows in the moonlight. Ethan could feel the thrill of the hunt thrumming through his veins.
But suddenly, Cavill's plan became clear—a narrow bridge loomed ahead, a rickety old thing spanning a deep ravine. Cavill gunned it, his car barreling towards the crossing, leaving Ethan little choice but to follow or lose him entirely.
Ethan floored the accelerator. He wasn't about to lose now.
Just as Cavill's car crossed to the other side, his tires screeching in protest, Ethan swerved around a sharp turn, barely missing a head-on collision as Cavill blocked the narrow path ahead. But before Ethan could react, headlights appeared in the distance, fast and closing.
Backup.
Two SUVs, armed to the teeth, bore down on him.
Ethan slammed the Aston Martin into reverse, tires screeching as he backed up to avoid the SUVs now hurtling toward him. Bullets pinged off the car's frame, shattering the rear window in a spray of glass.
"Iris, options!" he repeated, his voice edged with urgency.
"Logging trail to the east," Iris replied in her usual calm, unshaken by the chaos. "Tight for a car of your size, but it could buy you time."
Ethan gritted his teeth, swerving the Aston Martin sharply, the engine roaring in protest as he veered off the dirt road and onto the narrower trail. Branches scraped against the car's sides, the dense forest closing in, but he didn't slow. Behind him, the SUVs struggled to adjust to the tight quarters, their heavier frames crunching through the undergrowth.
The path twisted and turned, a winding mess of mud and loose gravel. Every few seconds, another hail of gunfire tore through the trees, closer now, the SUVs relentless in their pursuit. Ethan kept the Aston Martin steady, but his mind raced. This wasn't a chase he could win on speed alone.
"Iris," he muttered, glancing at the HUD. "What's the terrain like ahead?"
"Ahead?" Iris echoed, a flicker of doubt in her voice. "The trail gets steeper—risky with these speeds. But if you're thinking what I suspect… there's a cliff edge in approximately 300 meters."
Ethan's grip tightened. "Exactly what I'm thinking."
Behind him, the SUVs were gaining. The first one pulled up alongside him, the passenger once again leaning out the window, this time armed with an automatic rifle. Ethan glanced at the man, a fleeting second, before jerking the wheel. The Aston Martin veered sharply, slamming into the SUV's side.
The gunman's aim wavered, his shots spraying wildly into the trees as the two vehicles collided. Metal screeched against metal, the SUV shuddering under the impact. Ethan didn't relent. He rammed the car again, harder this time. The SUV lurched, tires skidding in the loose dirt. The gunman yelled something, his voice drowned out by the roar of engines and gunfire.
With a final swerve, Ethan sent the SUV careening off the path. It spun wildly, crashing into a thick tree with a deafening crunch. But there was no time to savor the small victory—the second SUV was closing in, its headlights glaring through the rear window.
And then, in the distance, Ethan saw it—the cliff Iris had mentioned. It loomed ahead, the trail narrowing dangerously as it led toward the precipice. His mind raced, calculating the odds. If he timed it right...
He slammed the accelerator, pushing the Aston Martin to its limits. The powerful engine roared in response, tires spinning as the car shot forward, dirt and gravel spraying from its wheels. The cliff edge rushed toward him, the steep drop beyond barely visible in the darkness.
Behind him, the second SUV followed, its driver clearly confident that Ethan was trapped.
Ethan waited, every nerve on edge as he watched the distance close. The edge was only meters away now. And then, at the last possible second, he yanked the handbrake.
The Aston Martin skidded into a violent drift, its rear tires spinning out as it turned sharply—just as the SUV barreled past, its driver too late to react. The heavy vehicle shot over the edge, vanishing into the abyss with a scream of tires and a deafening crash seconds later.
Ethan spun the Aston Martin around, gravel spraying as he faced the now-empty trail ahead. His heart pounded in his chest, the adrenaline coursing through him, but there was no time to stop.
"Sir," Iris's voice came through, a slight tension to her usually calm tone. "Cavill is still on the move. I'm tracking him down the main road. He's not far."
Ethan nodded, pulling the car back onto the main road with a quick flick of the wheel. The forest opened up around him as he sped down the dark path, leaving the wreckage of the chase behind. The road stretched ahead, winding its way through the Venezuelan countryside, moonlight glinting off the distant mountains.
Ahead, Cavill's taillights glowed faintly in the distance.
"Let's finish this," Ethan muttered, his eyes narrowing as he floored the accelerator once again.
The Aston Martin shot forward, the powerful engine roaring like a beast unleashed. The distance between them shrank, the night air thick with tension. Cavill's car weaved through the road, but Ethan was gaining, his focus sharp, every movement precise. He could see Cavill glancing in his rearview mirror, panic flickering across his face as Ethan closed in.
And then, without warning, Cavill's car jerked to the side, taking a sudden turn off the road and into the dense forest once more. Ethan followed, tires skidding as he raced after him, the trees a blur on either side.
The chase barreled through the undergrowth, both cars struggling to maintain speed on the uneven terrain. Ahead, Ethan could see Cavill's car weaving wildly, his injured shoulder clearly affecting his control. The forest thinned out, and in the distance, Ethan could see the glint of something metallic—another bridge, this one older, more decrepit.
Cavill's car shot toward it, his only escape route.
Ethan's instincts flared. The bridge wouldn't hold under the weight of both cars.
But Cavill was out of options.
Ethan pushed the Aston Martin harder, closing the gap. Just as Cavill's car reached the bridge, Ethan pulled alongside him.
Without hesitation, he swerved sharply, slamming into Cavill's car, sending it careening into the wooden supports of the bridge. The structure groaned under the impact, splintering beneath the weight.
Cavill's car teetered on the edge, its tires spinning uselessly as the wood began to give way.
Ethan skidded to a stop, his Glock in hand as he approached the wreck. Cavill, trapped in the driver's seat, stared up at him, his face pale, his shoulder bleeding profusely.
"It's over, Cavill," Ethan said, his voice steady, gun trained on his enemy.
Cavill sneered through the pain, defiant to the end. "Do you even know what you've gotten yourself into? You really think this ends here?"
Ethan's eyes hardened. "For you? Yes."
And with that, Cavill's car gave one final groan before it plunged into the ravine, taking him with it.