Chapter 29: The Final Tide
The dim light flickered in the cold, vast warehouse as Ross Garcia walked in with slow, deliberate steps. His black leather shoes tapped against the concrete floor, echoing eerily through the space. Behind him followed his right-hand man, Marco, along with two heavily armed enforcers. The room was dominated by a single table and three chairs, where the unconscious forms of Diego Sanchez, Santiago Sanchez, and Matias Lopez sat, their heads slumped forward, tied tightly to the chairs with thick ropes.
Ross stood still for a moment, staring at the three men who had dared to challenge him, who had schemed and plotted to bring down his empire. They were the reason for the bloodbath last night—the reason hundreds of bodies now littered the streets of Tijuana. But here they were, the supposed masterminds, utterly powerless.
"Wake them up," Ross said coolly, his voice carrying the weight of authority.
Marco gave a curt nod and signaled one of the enforcers, who quickly grabbed a bucket of water. Without hesitation, he splashed it over the faces of the three men. The cold water sent them sputtering and gasping for air, violently yanked from their unconscious state.
Diego Sanchez, the eldest of the Sanchez brothers, coughed and blinked rapidly as he struggled to focus. His younger brother, Santiago, twisted in his chair, confused and disoriented. Matias Lopez, the head of the Lopez family, groaned as he regained his senses. They all looked around the room, their gazes eventually locking on Ross Garcia, who stood in front of them with a dark, amused expression.
"Hello, Mr. Diego Sanchez, Mr. Santiago Sanchez, and Mr. Matias Lopez," Ross said, his voice dripping with mock politeness. His lips curled into a predatory smile. "I trust you all had a restful sleep?"
The three men slowly regained their composure, and with it, their memories of the night before. They had been meeting in one of their safe houses, discussing their next move in the ongoing war with the Garcia cartel, when the sudden sound of gunfire had shattered their plans. Before they could even react, the doors burst open, and a group of armed men had stormed in. One by one, they had been struck down, knocked unconscious. Now, they found themselves tied to chairs, deep within Garcia's stronghold.
Diego was the first to speak, his voice rough from the shock. "Ross... what do you want? Why are we tied up like this?"
Santiago, trying to mask his fear, straightened up and joined in. "Untie us! This is a misunderstanding. We came here to negotiate. We can make a deal."
But it was Matias Lopez, always the more cunning of the group, who spoke with the most confidence. "Ross Garcia," he began, his voice steady despite the sweat beading on his forehead. "Long time no see. You've made a mistake, my friend. Do you really think tying us up will solve anything? Untie us now, and we can talk. You know who we are, and you know the power we wield."
Ross raised an eyebrow, listening with a bemused expression. He had expected this. They still believed they had power, still believed they could talk their way out of this.
Matias continued, his tone growing more confident with every word. "You see, Ross, we were the ones behind your supplier's murder. We've been the ones causing those small skirmishes, making you waste your bullets. By now, you must have run low on weapons. And if we don't return by midnight, our forces will strike with full force. Even if the Garcia cartel isn't wiped out, you'll be left severely weakened. You won't recover from this."
The room fell silent for a moment as Matias's words hung in the air. Diego and Santiago exchanged hopeful glances, convinced that they still had a way out.
Then, Ross laughed—a deep, menacing sound that filled the warehouse with its cold echo. He shook his head slowly, the amusement clear in his eyes.
"You think I didn't know?" Ross asked, taking a step closer to the three men. His voice was calm, but there was an unmistakable edge of menace beneath it. "You really think I wasn't aware of what you've been up to? I've been watching you for months, letting you play your little games. I played along just to give you the illusion that you were winning. I let you think you had the upper hand, let you believe that the mighty Garcia cartel was starting to lose its bite."
He paused, watching as the color drained from Matias's face. "But the truth is, I was the one pulling the strings. You weren't trapping me—I was luring you into my net."
Ross's gaze shifted to Marco, who handed him a tablet. Ross tapped the screen, and a projection appeared on the wall behind him, showing footage from the previous night. It displayed the coordinated assault on the Sanchez and Lopez families' businesses, homes, and strongholds. The men could see their soldiers being cut down with ease, their assets being seized by Garcia's men.
"You see," Ross continued, his voice smooth as silk, "I didn't run out of weapons. In fact, I've been upgrading. I struck a deal with the Futuristic Arms Store, and now I have technology at my disposal that you can't even begin to comprehend. Your little ambushes and your attempts to drain my resources were all for nothing."
The Sanchez brothers and Matias Lopez stared at the footage, horror dawning on their faces as they realized the full extent of their defeat.
"And as for your 'forces'," Ross said, his tone turning icy, "they're all dead. Wiped out. Your little plan to attack me at midnight? It's already been taken care of. You have nothing left. No men, no assets, no power."
Diego, once so defiant, now trembled in his chair. Santiago couldn't even look Ross in the eye. Matias, however, still tried to cling to the last shreds of his pride.
"You… you won't get away with this," Matias spat, though his voice was much weaker now.
Ross smirked and leaned in close, his face inches from Matias's. "I already have."
He stood up straight, motioning to Marco, who handed him a document. Ross held it up for the three men to see.
"This is the contract I signed with the Futuristic Arms Store. In exchange for their state-of-the-art weapons, I gave them 20 percent of your total assets. Every business, every property, every last peso you owned is now under my control. And not only that, but I've also promised to protect all of their ventures in Mexico. So not only have I destroyed you, but I've also ensured that no one else can rise against me."
Matias, Diego, and Santiago sat in stunned silence. The weight of their defeat crashed down on them like a tidal wave.
Ross took one last puff of his cigar before flicking it to the ground, crushing it under his heel.
"Take them to the boat," he ordered, his voice cold and emotionless.
The enforcers moved quickly, dragging the defeated men out of the warehouse and onto a waiting speedboat. They were driven far out into the ocean, miles and miles away from the coast. As dawn broke over the horizon, the three men were thrown into the water, each one wearing nothing but a life jacket.
The nearest land was over a thousand miles away.
As the boat sped away, leaving them behind in the endless blue expanse, Ross Garcia's voice echoed in their minds.
"This is what happens when you cross me."
The waves lapped gently around them, but there was no escape. Their fate was sealed.