CHAPTER 154: A WARNING

~LAYLA~

The relief I’d felt moments ago evaporated instantly. "What do you mean ’hit’?"

"I mean, they sent a message. Broke in last night around two AM, trashed the equipment, destroyed raw materials, and set a small fire in the storage area. Nothing catastrophic, but enough to send a clear warning."

"Which warehouse?" I asked.

Axel’s voice cut in. "Anyone hurt?"

"The east side facility. Your biggest one... the one that handles seventy per cent of your production capacity." Tye paused. "Night security guard got roughed up pretty bad, but he’ll live. They wanted property damage, not body count. This time."

"This time?" I repeated in a whisper.

"This is their opening move," Tye explained in a matter-of-fact tone that made it even more chilling. "They’re showing they can reach you, hurt your business, whenever they want. Next time, they’ll escalate if you don’t pay up."

I sank into my office chair, the weight of everything crushing down on me.

Just minutes ago, I’d been dealing with the problem of too much success: sold-out inventory, overwhelming demand, and viral marketing.

Now I was facing threats from one of the most dangerous criminal organisations in the world.

"How much damage are we talking?" Axel asked.

"A couple hundred thousand in equipment and materials. Could’ve been a lot worse. They showed restraint, which means they still think they can get their money without destroying you completely."

"That’s supposed to be reassuring?"

"In this world? Yeah, actually. If they wanted you dead, you’d already be dead. They want their ninety million, and they think you have it. Dead people can’t pay debts."

I found my voice again, though it shook. "What do we do?"

"Short term? Increase security at all your locations. I can provide additional personnel... my own people, ones who know how to handle cartel threats. Long term? We need to prove Charles has their money, not you. And we need to do it fast, because their patience won’t last forever."

Axel was quiet for a moment, and I could practically hear him thinking. "How long do we have?"

"Days, maybe a week if we’re lucky. They fired a warning shot at your factory. Next time, it’ll be more personal. They’ll keep escalating until they get what they want."

"Then we find Charles’s hidden accounts," I said in a voice that sounded steadier than I felt. "We find the money, we clear our names, and we end this."

"Easier said than done," Tye cautioned. "Charles is smart. Dangerously smart. He’s had years to hide his assets, create shell companies, and move money through offshore accounts. Finding them won’t be simple."

"Nothing about this situation is simple," Axel said flatly. "But we don’t have a choice. We either find that money, or we lose everything we’ve built."

"I’ll start making calls," Tye said. "See what my contacts can dig up. I know people who specialise in tracking hidden assets. But you two need to be careful. Very careful. The Sinaloa doesn’t play games, and they sure as hell don’t forgive mistakes."

The line went dead, leaving Axel and me in heavy silence.

I stared at my phone screen, the call-ended notification mocking me.

"So," I said finally, "we went from having the best problem possible to having the worst problem possible in under five minutes."

"That’s about right."

"What do we do now?"

"We do both," Axel said, his voice taking on that determined edge I knew so well. "We sign those papers, scale production, and meet the demand. And we find Charles’s money before the Sinaloa finds us first."

"You make it sound so simple."

"It’s not. It’s messy and complicated and dangerous. But we’ve faced worse and survived, haven’t we?"

"Have we though? Have we really faced worse than the Sinaloa cartel threatening to kill everyone we care about?"

"We’re still here, aren’t we? Still breathing, still fighting. That has to count for something."

I leaned back in my chair, closing my eyes against the sudden burning sensation behind them. "I’m tired, Axel. So tired of fighting. Every time we solve one problem, three more seem to appear. When does it end?"

"I know, baby. I know you’re tired. But we’re almost through this. Just a little longer, and then we can finally breathe."

"Promise?"

"I promise."

I wanted to believe him. Desperately wanted to believe that we were close to the end of this nightmare, that soon we could just live our lives without constantly looking over our shoulders.

But something deep in my gut told me we were only just getting started.

"Layla?" Axel’s voice pulled me from my thoughts.

"Yeah?"

"Come meet me at the warehouse. The one that got hit. We need to speak to the workers, assess the damage in person, and show them we’re taking this seriously."

"Now?"

"As soon as you can. I’m rounding up the meeting on this side. We need to be there together, present a united front."

"Okay. I’ll head there now."

"Be careful. And Layla?"

"Yeah?"

"I love you."

My chest tightened. "I love you too."

The drive to the east side warehouse dragged on. Traffic was unusually heavy, and every red light felt frustrating. I kept glancing in my mirrors, worried someone might be following me, even though I knew the security team was behind me.

Was this how we’d live now? Constantly afraid, constantly watching?

When I finally pulled into the warehouse parking lot, I knew immediately something was wrong.

There were too many people, too much noise.

The workers gathered at the entrance, some waving signs and others huddled together, clearly upset. I could hear their frustrated voices rising in a loud commotion, even with my car windows rolled up.

I parked and stepped out, my heels clicking on the pavement.

The noise became words as I approached.

"We want answers!"

"This is her fault!"

"Eclipse Beauty put targets on our backs!"

A young woman, probably around twenty-five, was the first to notice me. She pointed and exclaimed, "That’s her! That’s Mrs. O’Brien!"

The crowd turned as one, and suddenly dozens of eyes were fixed on me with varying degrees of anger, fear, and accusation.

"Mrs. O’Brien, is it true the mafia attacked us because of you?"

"Are we safe coming to work anymore?"

"My kids were asking if Daddy’s job is dangerous now!"

"You owe us an explanation!"