She had the voice of an angel and the heart of a warrior. She was destined to do great things. Watching her choking her own blood brought me to tears. She was my everything, and he took that everything.
Now, standing behind an abandoned warehouse were two brave fools. We knew death awaited us inside, but still, hatred and anger drove us. They had to die.
He had to die.
"Alejandro," I called my partner next to me. His moustache waved with the shoreside wind. White sands were nesting inside his black hair. "If we do this, there is no turning back."
Alejandro didn't need to open his mouth. He cocked his pistol as a yes. "He killed our children. I'm not playing by the books anymore."
I nodded. With a single kick, the small, metal door burst open. I waited for nothing and immediately launched two bullets towards the first person I saw. The guy fell backwards with a scream.
Inside was dim, but we could smell him. The walls were not made out of concrete, but with rectangular packs of cocaine. They were scattered throughout the building. Over fifty tons should be stored here only to be later distributed to Miami and Vegas.
We searched the first room we encountered. I lunged frontwards to deflect any sudden bullet, but none was thrown. I was angry and sad, but being stupid wasn't an option. In order to avenge the death of my only daughter, I had to survive until the end. I had to see him myself, and I had to make his death slow and painful.
There was no vest to protect my body, nor enough ammos to supply us through. There was no backup to aid us, for the American and Colombian governments agreed a truce with the Cartagena Cartel.
We were sheeps attacking a fortress full of hunters. The only thing differentiating us from being preys was that we were armed and hateful.
"Isabel!" Alejandro's voice echoed from the next room. It was very small and capsulating, and the smell made my lungs churned all the air inside.
"Jesus Christ!"
I could only stand and look for three seconds. The sight was horrible, but under the lead of Giancarlo Manuel, the feared Cartagena Cartel became more violent than before.
Inside the small chamber was a butchered woman, unmoved and bloody all over. Alejandro was checking on her, but what was the use of that? She was barely dressed and the dozen cuts on her neck confirmed her death.
"Let's move out. They probably heard our shootout."
We decided to remove our shoes and navigate the hideout with as little noise as possible. I led us into the kitchen where a bald man with AK-47 slung to his back stood, toasting his slice of bread chillingly. He didn't hear anything. His ears were plugged by the white earphones.
