Chapter 507: The Dust Settles, A Great Harvest, Return to New York

Chapter 507 -330: The Dust Settles, A Great Harvest, Return to New York

Then Carlos saw that Raphael wasn’t aiming the gun at him, but at himself.

Just like Hector, over a decade ago.

Carlos’s eyes flew wide open.

Raphael shoved the barrel of the gun into his own mouth. Tears streamed from his eyes, rolling down the young face that bore a strong resemblance to Hector’s.

“Mom, Mom, Mom, I’m sorry, Mom…” he mumbled, his whole body trembling. “Mom, Mom, I’m scared.”

In that moment, Carlos’s mind went blank.

He saw Hector.

Over a decade ago, in this very room, under the same lights, Hector had been across from him.

They had faced the same agonizing choice.

In the end, Carlos had squeezed his eyes shut, let out a roar, turned his gun, and pulled the trigger.

And now, he calmly faced his own doom, realizing that for two generations of father and son, it was the same room, the same decision.

Kuchilo said human nature is evil.

Kuchilo was wrong.

“NO—!!!”

Carlos lunged from his chair, throwing himself across the table. He grabbed Raphael’s wrist and yanked the gun barrel out of his mouth.

The two of them, along with the chair, crashed onto the concrete floor.

“Let me go!” Raphael struggled desperately. “Uncle Carlos—you have to—”

“I’m the one who killed Hector!”

Raphael’s body went stiff.

Carlos pinned him to the floor, tears streaming down his old face, mixing with the blood and dust.

“Over a decade ago, in this very room,” he said, shaking like a leaf, “Kuluoqi gave your father and me each a gun. Only one of us could live.”

“I killed him.”

“I killed Hector.”

“I killed your father.”

Raphael’s eyes were wide, and a hoarse, gasping sound came from his throat. He couldn’t form any words.

Carlos let go of his wrist. He knelt on the floor, picked up the gun, and aimed it at himself.

He leaned down, his lips close to Raphael’s ear.

“My office. In the third drawer.”

He pressed the muzzle to his own temple.

“Don’t—!!” Raphael reacted instinctively, lunging from the floor.

Just then, a strange sound suddenly came from the speakers.

Both men froze.

The sound wasn’t normal, not human. It was more like… ‘a battering ram?’

A heavy, massive impact. Once, twice, three times. It sounded like something was violently slamming against a door.

With each impact, a burst of harsh static crackled from the speakers, making the entire sound system vibrate.

“Who’s—”

Kuchilo’s voice came from the speakers.

His voice had changed, shooting up three octaves. He sounded less like a drug lord who ruled a region and more like a woman.

“You! Go see what that is!” The deputy’s voice followed immediately.

Footsteps, hurried footsteps, the sound of running.

Then came an impact, heavier than all the others before it.

The sound of twisting metal came through the speakers, followed by a tremendous crash that made the speakers themselves shriek.

The door had been smashed open.

Gunfire erupted.

A dense, continuous, panicked volley of gunfire poured from the speakers, accompanied by a chorus of shouts—

“Fire! Fire!”

“Who’s there!”

“I can’t see anything!”

Then came a scream, followed by the sound of bones shattering.

Then another.

And another.

The gunfire started to thin out, but the screams grew more frequent.

Raphael and Carlos knelt on the cold concrete floor, staring at each other. Both were frozen in place, listening motionlessly to the speakers above.

Then came a scream from Kuchilo.

A short, thick, muffled snap followed, like something being twisted off.

The deputy’s shriek came right after, and then everything fell silent.

Only the faint, low hum of static remained from the speakers.

Raphael and Carlos didn’t dare to breathe. After a full minute passed, they looked at each other again.

Raphael reached out and took the gun from Carlos’s hand.

Carlos didn’t resist.

Raphael climbed to his feet and walked to the iron door.

He raised the gun and aimed at the lock.

BANG!

A single bullet blew out the lock, and the iron door swung slowly open.

The lights in the hallway were still on. It was filled with the armed guards who had escorted them earlier.

Most of them were unconscious, with only a few still groaning—but every single one was in the same state. Their limbs were twisted at unnatural angles; their wrists, elbows, and knees were all reduced to a pulpy mess.

Weapons were scattered all over the floor.

Neither Raphael nor Carlos understood what had happened. Raphael looked at the nearest man and saw he was unconscious, with bloody foam trickling from the corner of his mouth.

“Let’s go,” Carlos said, his voice trembling. “We need to get out of here.”

The two of them made their way up the hallway. Every few steps, they saw another fallen man, all in the same condition.

The manor’s living room was a complete wreck.

The sofa was overturned, the coffee table was shattered into pieces, and an ashtray and a tequila bottle lay smashed on the floor.

The air was thick with the smell of gunpowder and blood.

Kuchilo’s neck was twisted 180 degrees. It was a gruesome death.

For a powerful figure who had controlled the underworld of Monterrey City for over thirty years, his death wasn’t particularly spectacular. It was no different from anyone else’s.

「…」

「Four days after Li Wei and the others arrived in Monterey.」

The Monterey sun was as scorching as ever, streaming in through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the hotel restaurant and heating the white tablecloths until they were hot to the touch.