MARRY YOUR KILLER
Chapter Fourteen: The Mafia Moves
---
The meeting was set for midnight.
Jay stood in the warehouse at the edge of the Port of Manila, the same warehouse where she had gathered her girls after the engagement was announced. But tonight was different. Tonight, she wasn't just Hipag. Tonight, she was a woman who had been attacked, who had almost died, who was done waiting.
The rusted walls of the warehouse hid a war room that her father had built twenty years ago. Steel reinforcements. Soundproofing. A table that had seen more blood than most battlefields. She stood at the head of it now, her hands flat on the cold metal, her face calm, her eyes sharp.
Her uncle had made his move. Now she would make hers.
Ci N stood beside her, his usual chaos banked into something focused, something dangerous. He wasn't recording tonight. He wasn't joking. He had a gun at his hip and a knife in his boot and the look of a boy who had finally stopped playing games.
Felix was on her other side. He was the quiet one, the one who watched, the one who saw things others missed. Tonight, his eyes were moving across the room, cataloging exits, counting weapons, calculating angles. He had been doing this since he was sixteen. He had never missed anything.
Lyra was in the shadows. She was always in the shadows. But tonight, she was closer than usual. Her hand was near her waist, where her knife was hidden. Her eyes were fixed on the door. She hadn't spoken since they arrived. She didn't need to.
Care was at the far end of the table, her medical bag beside her, her face calm. She wasn't here to fight. She was here to make sure no one died. But her hands were steady, and her eyes were sharp, and everyone in the room knew that Care with a scalpel was more dangerous than most men with guns.
Freya stood by the door. Rakki was beside her. Mica was at her laptop. Ella was waiting in the car with Grace and Honey on the line. The girls were ready.
Jay looked at the map on the table. Her uncle's operations. His warehouses. His men. His money. Mica had mapped it all. The supply lines. The safe houses. The routes he used to move the things he didn't want anyone to see.
"Tonight," Jay said, "we take back what he stole."
---
Across the city, Keifer was in his own war room.
The basement of his house had been converted years ago, reinforced steel, soundproof walls, a table that had seen its own share of blood. He stood at the head of it now, his hands flat on the cold metal, his face calm, his eyes sharp.
Percy was beside him. For once, Percy wasn't laughing. His face was serious, his hands were steady, his eyes were fixed on the map in front of them. He had been waiting for this night for a long time.
Aries was on Keifer's other side. Aries was the quiet one, the one who watched, the one who saw things others missed. Tonight, their eyes were moving across the room, cataloging exits, counting weapons, calculating angles.
Yuri was in the corner. His red hair was bright against the dark walls. His face was cold. His hands were ready. He had been waiting for this night longer than anyone.
Cole was at the far end of the table, his usual charm replaced by something harder, something sharper. Alex was beside him, his phone in his hand, his face lit by the glow of whatever information he was pulling from sources that didn't exist.
Erdix stood by the door. Rory was at his laptop. David was checking his weapons. Calix was running numbers. Denzel was on the phone with someone in Singapore. Eman was in the corner with three screens, hacking something that wasn't supposed to be hacked. Mayo was waiting. Kit was ready.
Keifer looked at the map on the table. The Shadow Market's operations. Their warehouses. Their men. Their money. The people who had been pulling strings for thirty years.
"Tonight," Keifer said, "we find out who they are."
---
Jay's team moved first.
The warehouse was in Navotas, a rusted building on the water, the kind of place where things disappeared and no one asked questions. Her uncle used it to store shipments that weren't supposed to exist. Tonight, it was going to burn.
Ci N was at the wheel of the van, his face calm, his hands steady. Felix was beside him, watching the building through a pair of night-vision binoculars. Lyra was in the back, silent, her knife in her hand. Care was beside her, her medical bag on her lap, her breathing steady.
Jay was in the passenger seat. Her ribs still ached. Her jaw still throbbed. Her lip pulled against stitches when she spoke. She didn't care.
"There are twelve men inside," Felix said. "Three at the front. Four at the back. Five scattered through the warehouse. The shipment is in the center. Twelve crates."
"Contents?" Jay asked.
"Weapons. High-grade. Russian. Enough to start a small war."
Jay's jaw tightened. Her uncle was arming someone. Someone who wasn't her family. Someone who had been paying him for years.
"Lyra," she said.
"I see them," Lyra said from the back. Her voice was quiet. Calm. "The three at the front. I'll take them."
"Care?"
"I'm ready." Care's voice was steady. "No one dies tonight if we can help it."
Jay looked at Ci N. "You have the charges?"
He held up a small remote. "Five minutes. Enough time to get in and out."
Jay nodded. She opened the door. The night air was cold. The water was dark. The warehouse loomed ahead of her, full of her uncle's secrets.
"Move," she said.
---
They moved like shadows.
Lyra was first. She slipped through the darkness like she was born to it, her knife in her hand, her steps silent. The first guard didn't hear her. He didn't feel her. He was asleep before he hit the ground. The second guard turned. He saw nothing. He was asleep a second later. The third guard had time to open his mouth. He didn't have time to scream.
Lyra dragged him into the shadows. She looked back at Jay. Three fingers up. Three down. Done.
Jay moved. Ci N was behind her, his gun drawn, his eyes scanning. Felix was on her other side, quiet, focused. Care was in the middle, her bag on her shoulder, her hands ready.
The back door was unlocked. Lyra had already taken care of the men there. Four of them. Lying in the dark, breathing, alive.
The warehouse was vast. Crates everywhere. The smell of salt and oil and something else, something that made Jay's skin crawl. She saw the shipment in the center. Twelve crates. Russian markings. Weapons that should never have reached Manila.
Ci N moved to the crates. He opened one. Inside, row after row of assault rifles. New. Unused. Ready to kill.
Jay's phone buzzed. She looked at the screen. Keifer.
In position. Ready when you are.
She typed back. Moving now.
---
Keifer was in a building across the city, watching a different warehouse through a pair of night-vision binoculars. The Shadow Market's operations were here. The people who had been paying her uncle for years. The people who had started the war.
Percy was beside him, his face serious for once, his gun drawn. Aries was on the other side, their eyes sharp, their hands steady. Yuri was in the shadows, his red hair hidden beneath a cap, his face cold.
"Twelve men," Percy said. "Maybe more. Hard to tell. They're moving."
"They know we're coming?" Keifer asked.
"No. They're moving because someone told them to. Someone's pulling strings tonight."
Keifer looked at his phone. Jay's message was still on the screen. Moving now.
"She's in," he said.
"Then we go," Percy said.
Keifer nodded. He checked his weapon. He looked at his team. His brothers. His friends. The men who had been with him through everything.
"Move," he said.
---
Jay's team was inside the warehouse now.
The crates were open. The weapons were counted. Mica was on the line, her voice calm, her fingers moving.
"Confirmed," Mica said. "Twelve crates. Russian. Serial numbers match a shipment that went missing six months ago. Your uncle signed for it."
Jay's hand tightened on the phone. "He signed for it?"
"With his name. With his stamp. He wasn't hiding. He wanted someone to find it."
Jay looked at the crates. At the weapons. At the proof of her uncle's betrayal, laid out in front of her like a gift.
"He wanted us to find it," she said. "Why?"
Ci N was beside her. His face was pale. "Because it's a trap."
The lights went out.
---
The warehouse went dark. Complete darkness. The kind of darkness that pressed against your eyes, that made you blind, that made you helpless.
Jay dropped to the ground. Her hand found her knife. Her ears strained for sound.
Ci N was beside her. She could feel his presence, his breathing, his fear.
"Felix," she whispered.
"Here." His voice was low. Close.
"Care?"
"Here." Care's voice was steady. Calm.
"Lyra."
Silence.
"Lyra."
The lights came back on.
Lyra was standing in the center of the warehouse. Her knife was in her hand. Her face was calm. Around her, five men were on the ground. Not dead. Not bleeding. Just... down.
"They were in the rafters," Lyra said. Her voice was quiet. "They dropped the lights. They were going to take you."
Jay stood up. She looked at the men on the ground. Five of them. Armed. Ready. And Lyra had taken them all before they could move.
"How many more?" Jay asked.
"None. This was the trap. Your uncle wanted you here. He wanted you to find the weapons. He wanted you to think you were winning."
Jay's phone buzzed. Keifer.
Warehouse is empty. They knew we were coming. Pull out.
She typed back. We know. Pulling out now.
---
They left the warehouse behind.
The weapons stayed. The men stayed. Jay had what she needed. Proof. Evidence. The name of her uncle's contact. A trail that led somewhere she hadn't expected.
They were in the van now, driving through the dark streets of Manila, the city lights flashing past. Ci N was at the wheel. Felix was beside him, quiet, thinking. Care was checking Lyra's hands, making sure she wasn't hurt. Lyra sat still, her face blank, her eyes fixed on the window.
Jay looked at her phone. Keifer had sent another message.
Meet me at the house.
She typed back. On our way.
---
Keifer was waiting at the door when they arrived.
His face was tired. His clothes were dirty. There was a cut on his hand that he hadn't bothered to bandage. He looked at Jay as she got out of the van. He looked at her bruises, her stitches, the way she was holding her ribs.
"You're okay," he said.
"I'm okay."
"Your uncle—"
"I know. It was a trap."
He nodded. He stepped aside. She walked in.
The house was full. Her girls. His boys. Everyone was back, scattered across the living room, the dining room, the kitchen. No one was sleeping. No one was resting.
Jay walked to the dining table. Mica's laptop was open. Rory's screens were set up. The map was still there, the operations, the warehouses, the trail of money that led somewhere none of them had expected.
She sat down. Keifer sat beside her.
"Your uncle," Keifer said. "He wanted you to find those weapons. He wanted you to think you were winning. He wanted you to feel safe."
"And then?"
"And then he was going to move. Tonight. Tomorrow. Soon."
Jay looked at the map. At the web of connections that Mica and Calix had built. At the name at the center, the name that kept appearing, the name that shouldn't be there.
"Meridian Group," she said. "Singapore. That's where the money comes from."
Keifer nodded. "That's where the orders come from. That's where the war started."
Jay looked at him. His face was tired. His eyes were dark. But he was there. He was beside her.
"We're not enemies," she said.
It wasn't a question.
"No," he said. "We're not."
She looked at the map again. At the war that had been fought for thirty years. At the people who had been pulling the strings. At the truth that was finally, finally in front of her.
"Then we find them," she said. "Together."
---
END OF CHAPTER FOURTEEN