Chapter 8 - The Confrontation
The rain drummed like gunfire against the corrugated steel roof of the quarry office.
Miguel sprinted through the mud, catching up to Ernesto just as the old man reached the rusty exterior stairs. Canela was already at the door, scratching frantically at the bottom gap, letting out frantic, high-pitched yelps.
From inside the office, a muffled, angry shout rang out, followed by the sound of a metal chair scraping against concrete.
Ernesto didn't bother knocking. He slammed the flat of his heavy boot directly beside the lock, putting all his weight into the kick. The rotten wooden frame splintered with a loud crack, the door flying inward and slamming against the interior wall.
Inside, the room was lit by a sputtering kerosene heater. Empty liquor bottles, stale food wrappers, and piles of unpaid invoices covered a folding table. Standing in the center of the room was Javier—fifty-eight, heavyset, with greasy gray hair pulled into a ponytail, holding a loaded 12-gauge shotgun in both hands.
"Who the hell—" Javier started, his voice freezing as the light hit his brother’s rain-soaked face.
"Put the gun down, Javier," Ernesto said, stepping into the room. His voice was terrifyingly calm, but the vein in his temple throbbed with venomous fury.
Javier’s eyes darted wildly, moving from Ernesto to Miguel, who stood framed in the doorway holding the tire iron, and finally down to Canela. When he saw the dog, Javier took a step back, the barrel of the shotgun wavering in his hands.
"Ernesto... what are you doing out here in this weather?" Javier stammered, trying to muster a defensive sneer. "You’re trespassing on industrial property. You’ve lost your mind."
"Where is Mateo?" Ernesto demanded, taking another step forward, ignoring the shotgun pointed straight at his chest.
"Mateo is dead, Ernesto! You know that! He was taken from the hospital six months ago! The cops said—"
"Canela brought me the note, brother," Ernesto interrupted, his voice dropping into a guttural growl. "Sofia’s note. Written two months after you told me she was buried in Santa Maria cemetery."
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Javier’s face went completely ash gray. His grip on the shotgun loosened by a fraction of an inch. "Ernesto... you don't understand the debt we were under. The syndicate... they were going to kill us both. Sofia wouldn't sign the quarry transfer. She ran off with the kid and hid in the caretakers' bunkhouse. I didn't mean to hurt her... she got pneumonia out here, Ernesto! I tried to bring her medicine, but she died in that bed!"
"And Mateo?" Ernesto roared, taking two massive strides across the room. "What did you do to my grandson?!"
