Chapter 6:A path of fire and freedom

The sterile smell of antiseptic filled Logan's nostrils as he stirred awake. His body felt like it had been hit by a freight train. His left arm was wrapped in a cast, a dull throb emanating from the broken bone, while his bandaged torso reminded him of every blow he'd taken. The soft hum of the cartel compound's infirmary equipment buzzed in the background.

He blinked, adjusting to the dim lighting. A figure stepped into view—Manny.

"You're awake," Manny said, his tone gruff but tinged with relief. "Thought you'd sleep for another day."

"How long?" Logan croaked, his voice hoarse.

"Two days. You were out cold," Manny replied, pulling a chair next to the bed. "You scared the hell out of everyone when you came back looking like that. But you did good, kid. Real good."

Logan tried to sit up, but a sharp pain shot through his ribs. He winced, falling back against the pillows. Manny placed a hand on his shoulder, keeping him still.

"Relax. Salvador's been singing your praises, and so has everyone else. Even Julian had to admit you pulled off something big," Manny said with a smirk.

Logan exhaled, the memories of the mission flooding back. The titans, the shifter, the chase—it all felt like a blur now.

---

Later that day, Logan limped into the main hall of the compound. His movements were slow and stiff, but he refused to show weakness in front of the others. As he passed, cartel guards nodded in acknowledgment, some even giving him a rare clap on the back. Whispers of his battle with the Valdez titans and shifter had spread like wildfire.

Julian, Salvador's eldest son, leaned against a pillar, watching Logan with his usual air of superiority. But there was something different in his gaze this time—a flicker of respect.

"You've got guts, Holt," Julian said as Logan passed by. "I didn't think you'd make it back alive. Guess I was wrong."

Logan gave him a curt nod, not trusting himself to speak without snapping. Julian's recognition meant little, but it wasn't lost on Logan that the rest of the compound seemed to be taking notice too.

---

In Salvador's office, the cartel leader leaned back in his leather chair, the faint glow of a laptop illuminating his sharp features. George Holt stood to the side, his expression calm but his eyes betraying a flicker of pride as Salvador replayed footage from the mission. The camera feed, taken from a hidden drone, showed Logan taking down the titans and shifter with precision and tenacity.

"This boy of yours," Salvador began, pausing the footage as Logan drove his dagger into the neck of a titan, "he's something special, George. You've raised a weapon, not just a son."

George's face remained impassive, but inside, his chest swelled. "Logan's got potential. He just needs guidance."

Salvador stroked his chin, nodding. "He's earned his place here. Manny, your thoughts?"

Manny, leaning against the wall, crossed his arms. "Kid's a force of nature. Valdez never saw it coming. The hit was clean. No loose ends."

Salvador smirked, his gold tooth catching the light. "The Valdez are scrambling. And the other organizations? Circling like vultures, but none are bold enough to make a move just yet. That's the chaos we needed."

He turned his attention back to the screen, replaying the moment Logan used his force field to break free of the titan's grip. "Keep an eye on him. With time, he might even rival some of the old legends."

---

Later that evening, Logan sat in his room, the compound buzzing with activity as news of the Valdez hit spread. A soft knock at his door pulled him from his thoughts.

"Come in," he called.

The door creaked open, revealing Amara. Salvador's daughter stepped inside, her dark eyes filled with concern. She held a small tray with a bowl of soup and a bundle of herbs.

"Figured you could use something warm," she said, setting the tray on the bedside table. Her voice was soft but steady, a stark contrast to her father's commanding tone.

"Thanks," Logan muttered, his voice quieter than usual. He wasn't used to kindness in this place, and Amara's presence was disarming.

Amara sat on the edge of the bed, studying him. "You look terrible."

Logan managed a weak laugh. "You should see the other guy."

She smiled faintly, shaking her head. "I heard what you did. Everyone's talking about it. Even my father seems impressed."

"Your father's not easily impressed," Logan replied, taking a careful sip of the soup. It was hot but soothing, easing the tightness in his chest.

Amara hesitated before speaking again. "You should be proud of yourself, Logan. What you did wasn't just brave—it was... extraordinary."

Logan didn't respond, his thoughts drifting to the blood, the pain, the chaos. Proud wasn't the word he'd use.

After a moment of silence, Amara stood, offering her hand. "Come on. You need to move around before you turn into a statue."

Logan raised an eyebrow but took her hand, letting her help him up. He leaned on her slightly as they walked out into the courtyard, the cool night air a welcome relief.

From a distance, Manny, George, and Salvador watched the pair.

"Looks like your boy's making friends," Salvador said with a smirk.

George's expression remained neutral, but his sharp eyes stayed locked on Logan. "He's focused. That's all that matters."

Manny chuckled. "Focused or not, the kid's made waves. The Valdez hit's got the other organizations on edge. They won't take this lying down."

Salvador nodded. "Good. Let them try. But first, we'll see what your boy's really made of, George. This was just the beginning."

As Logan and Amara disappeared into the shadows of the courtyard, Logan couldn't shake the feeling that his life was hurtling toward something far more dangerous than anything he'd faced before.

The next morning logan's body ached as he gritted his teeth, pushing his force field outward with his good arm. Sweat dripped down his face as the translucent barrier expanded in the courtyard, shimmering under the afternoon sun. The faint hum of energy vibrated through the air, and his concentration wavered momentarily when his injured arm throbbed in protest.

"Again," he muttered to himself, ignoring the sharp pain. He clenched his fists, his good arm extending forward. The force field pulsed and held steady this time, forming a dome around him.

"Not bad," a familiar voice called out. Logan turned his head, spotting Manny leaning against a pillar. "But you're overcompensating for that arm. Your focus is slipping."

"I'm managing," Logan replied curtly, lowering the barrier. His breathing was heavy, his muscles burning from exertion.

Manny approached, crossing his arms. "You're pushing too hard. You've barely recovered. Keep this up, and you'll be back in the infirmary."

Logan shook his head. "I don't have time to rest. Valdez won't wait for me to heal, and I won't let myself fall behind."

Manny sighed, scratching the back of his head. "Stubborn as hell. Guess I shouldn't expect anything less."

---

That evening, Logan joined Manny and the rest of the crew in Salvador's briefing room. The air was heavy with anticipation as Salvador entered, his presence commanding immediate silence. He gestured for everyone to sit before beginning.

"The Valdez are on their knees," Salvador said, his deep voice reverberating through the room. "Our attack crippled their operations. Their supply chains are fractured, their lieutenants are scrambling, and their reputation is in tatters."

A grim smile tugged at his lips. "But they're not out yet. They'll retaliate, and when they do, they'll be desperate. Desperation makes people dangerous."

Salvador glanced around the room, his gaze lingering on Logan. "They'll turn to anyone who can help them rebuild—veteran triggermen, mercenaries, espers, titans, shifters. They won't take just anyone, though. They'll recruit the best they can find, and we need to be ready for whatever they throw at us."

Manny nodded. "So what's the next move, boss?"

"We'll keep the pressure on," Salvador replied. "Strike their remaining assets, monitor their movements, and make it clear that the Valdez are finished."

Logan listened intently, but a thought gnawed at the back of his mind. When Salvador finished speaking, Logan cleared his throat, drawing the room's attention.

"With respect, sir, I have an idea," Logan began. "I want to work as a freelance triggerman."

The room fell silent. Salvador raised an eyebrow, his expression unreadable. "Freelance?" he echoed. "Explain."

Logan sat forward, his voice steady despite the tension in the room. "The Valdez are going to start hiring outsiders—guns for hire, assassins, anyone who can protect them. If I go freelance, I can get closer to them, learn their movements, and feed that intel back to you."

Manny frowned, but before he could interject, George spoke up. "It's a sound idea," he said calmly. "Freelancers move through circles we can't always infiltrate. The Valdez won't trust someone with obvious cartel ties, but a talented freelancer? That's another story."

Salvador leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers. "And what makes you think they'll hire you, Logan? You're young, unproven outside of this organization."

"I'll prove myself," Logan replied confidently. "My work in the field speaks for itself. And with Manny and the crew's support, I'll have the credibility I need."

Manny sighed, rubbing his temples. "Kid, going freelance is dangerous. You'll be on your own out there. No backup, no safety net."

"I know the risks," Logan said firmly. "But it's the best way to get ahead of the Valdez before they rebuild."

Salvador studied him for a long moment, his sharp eyes unreadable. Finally, he smirked. "You've got guts, I'll give you that. Alright, Logan. I'll allow it—on one condition."

"What's that?" Logan asked.

"You report back regularly. Any intel you gather comes straight to me, no exceptions. And if you step out of line, you'll answer to me personally."

Logan nodded. "Understood."

Salvador turned to George. "You've raised a bold son, George. Let's see if he can live up to the Holt name."

George inclined his head, his expression unreadable but his pride unmistakable. "He will."

---

After the meeting, Logan returned to the courtyard, his mind racing. The weight of his decision settled on his shoulders, but he didn't regret it. This was his chance to prove himself—not just to the cartel, but to himself.

Amara found him leaning against a tree, lost in thought. "So, you're going freelance?" she asked, her tone light but curious.

Logan nodded. "Yeah. It's the best way to get ahead of the Valdez."

She crossed her arms, studying him. "You're either brave or insane."

"Probably both," Logan admitted with a faint smirk.

Amara shook her head, a small smile tugging at her lips. "Just don't get yourself killed, alright?"

Logan looked at her, his expression serious. "I'll be fine. I always am."

But as Amara walked away, Logan couldn't help but wonder if she was really concerned for him or it was just the orders of her father to keep tabs on him.