Array Ashley - The Last Chapter

The Miami police ducked for cover and began to call for backup on their walkie-talkies as the block underwent pandemonium. Some of the officers began to run toward the gunmen with their guns drawn, demanding them to drop their weapons. The Mexicans didn’t care if they were uniformed cops. They shot at them also. In their country, there was no authority above their cartel. The Mexican gunplay was too much for the officers, and the Miami Police Department had to back down and wait for help.

After noticing that Carter’s car was bulletproof, one of the gunmen said something in Spanish, and the Mexicans hopped in their vans and peeled off, leaving black tire marks on the pavement and smoking tires. Carter and Zyir grabbed their guns from under the seat and watched as the vans disappeared off the block. Both of their hearts were pounding rapidly as they escaped the deadly ambush by the skin of their teeth.

“You good?” Carter asked as he looked Zyir’s body up and down to see if he was hit.

“Yeah, I’m good. You?” Zyir asked as he breathed heavily.

“Yeah,” Carter responded as his phone began to ring. He looked at the caller ID and noticed that the incoming call was blocked. Carter picked up the phone and heard the operator’s voice. The call was from a federal penitentiary.

“I accept,” Carter spoke into the phone.

“My dear friend, I am hurt that you crossed the line… and for that, you will suffer,” Garza said calmly and confidently. “I have no control over what happens after this point. My only advice to you is to flee as far away as you can. There is nowhere in the country where Felipe can’t find you and your family. With that, I’ll say good-bye,” Garza said just before hanging up the phone.

Carter didn’t know what to say, so he didn’t say anything. He just closed his phone and shook his head from side to side.

“We have to get out of here,” Carter said as he steered the bullet-riddled car off the block. The tires were flattened, but Carter wanted to leave before the cops approached them, asking questions.

Zyir and Carter were silent because they knew that they had just started a war with one of the deadliest cartels in North America.

In the meantime, Breeze was asleep in a hotel room, with Mecca present with her. Mecca was up looking out of the window with a gun in his hand. After giving him the news of the melee on their block, Carter had told him to check into a hotel downtown just to be safe. He knew that Illiana knew about their personal residences, and he didn’t want to take any chances.

Mecca looked at the gun in his hand and shook his head. He didn’t feel the same adrenaline rush that he once did when feeling the cold steel in his palms. Actually, it started to disgust him. Mecca was tired of selling drugs, tired of murders, and tired of The Cartel. He knew that if his family wasn’t a part of The Cartel, they would all be there with him and not dead.

He looked over at his sleeping beauty, his baby sister, and wanted more for her. He refused to lose her again.

Mecca’s mind ran wild as he began to think about religion, and it seemed as if every time he closed his eyes, he saw a person’s face that he had once murdered. Throughout his killing career, it never bothered him to look into the eyes of a person he killed, but now, it was crashing down on him like a ton of bricks.

Since Mecca was a young boy, he’d always wanted to be a gangster-nothing more, nothing less. But now he wanted to be just a regular man, a family man. His mind was clear since he hadn’t been using drugs or drinking, and he really wanted a change.

This new beef with the Mexicans was one that Mecca didn’t want to see. He knew the ramifications of a war, and he wasn’t willing to lose any more family over it. Mecca glanced at Breeze once again and then walked over to her and knelt beside the bed next to her. He did something that he had not done since he was a little boy. He began to pray.

Carter and Zyir entered the hotel from the back entrance, using the keycard that was provided for the guests. They stepped in and saw three Mexican men run by them with guns in their hands. Carter and Zyir quickly ducked back and out of sight as the men whizzed by them, not even noticing them.

“What the fuck?” Zyir whispered as he and Carter pulled out their guns. Carter had underestimated the Garza Cartel. He knew that they had come for blood.

“Breeze and Mecca are up there!” Carter said as he looked around the corner and saw that the three Mexicans were headed up the stairs.

“Let’s use the elevator,” Carter suggested as he cocked back his gun and flipped it off safety. Zyir and Carter flew to the elevator, hoping that they would reach the fifth floor before the Mexican goons did.

Carter hurriedly tapped the button in the elevator, trying to make the doors close faster, and Zyir immediately hit the camera that was in the top corner of the elevator, knowing that they were about to get into some shit. The door finally closed and they began to go up.

“Come on, come on, come on,” Zyir repeated as he stared at the numbers indicating what floor they were passing. They knew that they only had a small window of time to make it to the room before the Mexicans did.

“I wonder how many are here,” Carter said, believing that Felipe had sent more than three men to do the job.

“Don’t know, but I’m ready for whatever,” Zyir said bravely as he thought about his love, Breeze, who was in the room with Mecca.

They finally reached the fifth floor and-

“Where is the food?” Mecca asked, flicking through the channels as Breeze sat next to him in the bed.

“Just call Carter and tell him to bring us something on his way here,” Breeze said, not wanting to eat the nasty hotel food anyway.

“Cool,” Mecca agreed as he picked up his phone. “Damn, I don’t have any service.”

As soon as the words escaped his mouth, a knock on the door sounded.

“Room service,” a maid announced with a heavy Spanish accent.

“Thank God! Finally some food,” Breeze said as she sat upright and looked at the door.

Mecca got up and grabbed his pistol off of the bed, wanting to be cautious as he approached the door. He peeked through the peephole and was at ease when he saw that it was a maid with a platter in her hand. Mecca tucked his gun in his waistline and removed the chain lock that was on the door. He reached into his pocket and grabbed some money and opened the door.

As soon as the door opened, a Mexican man stepped into view with a sawed-off shotgun aimed directly at Mecca’s chest. Before Mecca could even react, the loud sound of the shotgun rang through the air. The blast struck Mecca in his sternum, causing him to fly back viciously.

Breeze was startled by the blast, and she screamed at the top of her lungs as she saw her brother get blown off of his feet.

Breeze screamed at the top of her lungs as she tried to scramble off of the bed and run for cover. The man ran in and grabbed Breeze by the hair and flung her violently across the room. He was speaking Spanish, so Breeze couldn’t understand him, but his body language and facial expression clearly stated that he hated her and wanted her dead.

He grabbed her by the throat, still speaking Spanish, and he sinisterly smirked as he put the gun to Breeze’s face. Boom! A loud shot rang throughout the hotel room, and blood and guts splattered all over Breeze’s face-but not blood of her own. It was the blood of the gunman.

She screamed hysterically as the man lay slumped on her with his face blown off. Mecca stood behind him with a smoking gun. He ripped open his shirt, revealing his bulletproof vest, something he never left home without.

He pushed the man off of Breeze and helped her up.