His Territory

27

- Cristian

We touched down in New York six hours later, and I was immediately hit by the chaotic crush of people. I turned to Los, whose face mirrored my own bewilderment.

"What the fuck is this? A damn jungle? Why are there so many people?" he muttered, drawing a chuckle out of me.

"Like, oh my God, Losito, this is New York City! Snap a pic of me with my fake Louis Vuitton for the 'gram!" I mocked, earning some glares from a group of girls next to us.

He rolled his eyes, the tension settling back in. We were here for Lucia, and I had no clue where to start.

"Do you know what gate they went through?" I asked, racking my brain for a plan.

"They left from D11 in LA, so they probably landed at Terminal 4 here."

I nodded, scanning the terminal. Give me a sign, just something.

As I walked forward, my gaze snagged on a long corridor labeled "Employees Only." I glanced around for security, but the entrance was unguarded.

"Let's try this," I whispered. Los shook his head, pointing to the card scanner by the door.

I looked around the terminal, spotting a group of flight attendants headed our way. One of them, a blonde, caught my eye, her cheeks pinking as I stared her down. Her ID badge clipped to her waist was exactly what I needed.

I flashed her a grin as I sauntered over, my steps smooth. She stopped, visibly responding to my approach while the others walked on.

"Well, hello there..." I murmured, glancing at her ID. I slipped it off her waistband smoothly. "...Elise," I said, pouring on the charm. She giggled as I unclipped the card, sliding the holder back onto her waist.

"When you're off, we should grab a drink." I handed her my phone, and she typed her number in with a smile, leaning in close.

"I'm free tomorrow night," she whispered, and I bit back the urge to roll my eyes.

"It's a date," I said, smirking as she walked away, oblivious. As soon as she was out of sight, Los slow-clapped from where he stood by the door.

"You. Are. Disgusting," he said, grinning widely.

"Desperate times, 'mano." I tapped the card on the scanner, and the door clicked open.

We slipped down the dimly lit hallway, unsure of what we were looking for. I scanned the labels on the doors as we moved, spotting one that read, Cameras: D1 - D20.

I grabbed Los's arm, motioning him to follow as I tapped the card on the scanner. The red light flashed, and the door refused to budge.

"Damn it," I muttered, peeking through the glass to see an empty room.

Los shrugged, pulling a metal water bottle out of his backpack. "No weapons allowed, so I brought this," he said, smirking. He swung it at the window, and the glass cracked but stayed in place.

"Plexiglass," he said with a chuckle. He pried at the crack until he managed to pull the sheet of glass out, the broken pieces falling silently to the floor.

"Airport security can blow me," Los muttered, reaching in to open the door from the inside. It swung open, and we slipped in, shutting it quietly behind us.

"I'll check 1 through 10. You check 11 through 20," I said, heading toward the monitor. I rewound the footage, watching it rewind for about fifteen minutes before hitting play.

We combed through each screen for what felt like an eternity. Finally, Los tapped my shoulder, a sick look on his face.

"Fuck, man," he said, his hands pulling at his hair.

I turned to the monitor, my stomach churning as I saw Lucia in Adrián's arms, her head lolling as he walked. She was out cold.

"He drugged her?!" I roared, my voice echoing off the walls. I slammed my fist on the control panel, cracking the plastic.

"What time was that?" I forced out, trying to rein in my anger.

"Two hours ago," Los replied, matching my low tone.

I nodded, rubbing my temples, trying to focus. The stress throbbed in my head, but Los kept clicking through the footage, suddenly stopping.

"Look." He pointed to the screen showing the arrivals mezzanine, where taxis were lined up at the curb. Adrián's back came into view, and he shoved Lucia into one of the cabs.

"Can we hear audio?" I asked, leaning forward, my knee bouncing in anticipation.

Los clicked around and finally nodded. The sound was faint, barely rising above the noise of honking cars and muffled voices. I strained, catching fragments of his voice.

"Bay... Atlantic..." I caught, barely a whisper over the din.

"Google that," I said, already pulling out my phone. I typed furiously, finding a result: Atlantic Beach.

"It's about thirty minutes from here if it's the right place," Los muttered.

He opened his mouth to say more, but his eyes widened as he dove at me, slapping a hand over my mouth and pulling me into a corner. I started to elbow him, but he shushed me.

The door swung open, and a heavyset man stepped in, sweeping the room with a flashlight. He scanned the room quickly before shutting the door, oblivious to our presence.

"We gotta move," Los whispered, releasing me and edging toward the door.

He opened it just enough to peek outside, then gestured for me to follow. We slipped out and sprinted down the hallway, emerging into the terminal. I spotted an empty cab and threw open the door, sliding in with Los right behind me.

"Bay Boulevard, Atlantic Beach," I told the driver, swiping my card.

He nodded, shifting gears and pulling out of the terminal, merging onto the highway.

I leaned back, a sharp exhale escaping me. My hands clenched into fists as the city blurred past us.

I'm going to kill that bastard.