Chapter 4: The Viper's Strike

Leo's phone buzzed at 6:47 AM, jolting him from the first decent sleep he'd had in days. The caller ID showed Marco's number, but the voice on the other end was strained with barely controlled panic.

"Leo, they're here. They're fucking everywhere."

Leo was instantly alert, the remnants of sleep vanishing like smoke. "Who's where? Talk to me."

"My shop. There's got to be fifteen people crawling all over my property. Building inspectors, fire marshals, some guy from the EPA, even animal control. They showed up an hour ago with a stack of warrants thick as a phone book."

Through his bedroom window, Leo could see the morning sun painting Havenwood's quiet streets in golden light. Peaceful. Deceptive. "What are they saying?"

"Anonymous complaints about unsafe working conditions, improper waste disposal, unlicensed electrical work—Leo, half this shit doesn't even apply to what I do. They're tearing apart my office, going through my files, taking pictures of everything."

Leo was already pulling on clothes, his mind racing through possibilities. Rex had been released on bail twelve hours ago—apparently his father's lawyers worked even faster than Leo had anticipated. "Any official word on who filed the complaints?"

"Anonymous tips, they said. Multiple sources, all in the past twenty-four hours." Marco's bitter laugh carried no humor. "What a fucking coincidence, right?"

Leo grabbed his keys and headed for the door. "I'm on my way. Don't sign anything, don't admit to anything, and call your lawyer."

"With what money? If they shut me down, I'm broke inside a week."

The line went dead. Leo stared at his phone, feeling the familiar weight of consequences settling on his shoulders. In the military, they called it blowback—the predictable retaliation that followed successful operations. He'd warned his friends it was coming, but warning and experiencing were two different things.

His second phone—Chloe's number—was ringing before he reached his car.

"Leo." Her voice was tight with controlled fear. "I need to tell you something, but not over the phone. Can you meet me at the library?"

"On my way to Marco's first. What's wrong?"

A pause that lasted too long. "My supervisor called me into her office this morning. Someone filed a formal complaint about my 'inappropriate behavior' with library patrons. They're opening an investigation."

Leo's hands tightened on the steering wheel. "What kind of inappropriate behavior?"

"Harassment. Creating a hostile environment. Abusing my position to target specific community members." Chloe's professional composure was cracking. "Leo, they have photos. Somehow they have photos of me at the Rusty Cue, drinking wine, playing pool. The complaint says I was intoxicated in public and then came to work the next day, creating a dangerous environment for children."

"Photos from when?"

"Friday night. When we were all there together."

The pieces clicked into place with sickening clarity. Rex or one of his crew had documented their evening, probably as insurance against future confrontations. Now those same photos were being weaponized through official channels, twisted into evidence of misconduct.

"Leo, if they suspend me pending investigation, I'll lose my apartment. The library job is all I have."

Leo pulled into Marco's business complex and immediately understood the scope of their problem. Vehicles from six different regulatory agencies filled the parking lot. Men and women in official jackets crawled over Marco's property like ants, armed with clipboards, cameras, and the power to destroy a small business through bureaucratic suffocation.

"Stay calm," Leo told Chloe. "Document everything. Every conversation, every accusation, every photo they show you. We're going to fight this."

"With what? Leo, these people have the entire system behind them. We're just—"

"We're citizens with rights," Leo cut her off. "Don't let them make you forget that."

But even as he said it, Leo knew how hollow the words sounded. Rights meant nothing when your opponents controlled the referees.

Marco met him at the gate, his face haggard with exhaustion and rage. "Twelve years," he said without preamble. "Twelve years I've been building this business, and they're going to destroy it in a single morning."

"What exactly are they claiming?"

"Everything." Marco gestured at the chaos surrounding them. "Improper storage of construction materials, unlicensed modifications to the office building, failure to maintain adequate safety equipment. Half of it's bullshit, but the other half..." He shrugged helplessly. "Small business corners get cut, you know? Nothing dangerous, nothing that hurts anybody, but technically against code."

Leo watched a fire inspector photographing Marco's electrical panel. "How technical are we talking?"

"Extension cord that should have been permanent wiring. Missing permits for the bathroom renovation I did three years ago. Safety equipment that's two months overdue for inspection." Marco's shoulders sagged. "Stuff that usually gets a warning, maybe a small fine. But they're treating it like I was running a meth lab."

A woman in an EPA jacket approached them, her expression professionally neutral. "Are you the business owner?"

"Yeah," Marco said.

"I need to inform you that we've discovered evidence of improper hazardous waste disposal on the premises. Specifically, paint thinner and adhesive containers stored in violation of federal environmental protection guidelines."

Marco's face flushed red. "Those are in a locked cabinet with proper ventilation, exactly like the safety manual says."

"The safety manual from 2019," the inspector replied smoothly. "Regulations were updated in 2021. Current storage requirements mandate climate-controlled environments for all Class B hazardous materials."

Leo felt a chill that had nothing to do with the October morning. These weren't random inspections triggered by anonymous complaints. This was a coordinated assault, precisely targeted to exploit every minor violation and outdated compliance issue that a small business might reasonably overlook.

"When do the new regulations take effect?" Leo asked.

The inspector consulted her clipboard. "They were implemented six months ago, with a grace period that ended last month."

"And when were business owners notified of these changes?"

A slight pause. "Notification is the responsibility of individual business owners. The regulations are publicly available on our website."

Marco stared at her. "You're telling me I'm supposed to check federal websites every month to see if the rules changed?"

"Ignorance of current regulations is not considered a valid defense under federal environmental protection statutes."

Leo had heard enough. "Excuse me, but who filed the original complaint that triggered these inspections?"

"Anonymous tip through our citizen reporting system. Multiple complaints, actually, filed over the past twenty-four hours by concerned community members."

"Multiple complaints about the same business, all filed within hours of each other?"

The inspector's expression hardened slightly. "Environmental protection is everyone's responsibility, sir. We take all complaints seriously, regardless of timing."

Leo nodded, understanding the game now. Rex's family had resources—not just money, but connections. People who knew which regulations were rarely enforced, which agencies could be motivated to sudden action, which bureaucratic pressure points would cause maximum damage with minimal effort.

"Marco," Leo said quietly, "we need to talk. Privately."

They walked to the far end of the parking lot, out of earshot from the small army of inspectors. Marco looked like a man watching his life's work crumble in real time.

"This is because of Friday night," Marco said. It wasn't a question.

"Yes."

"They're going to destroy my business over a fucking pool game."

Leo looked back at the chaos surrounding Marco's shop. "It's not about the pool game. It's about power. We challenged Rex's authority, so now he's demonstrating what happens to people who forget their place."

"And Chloe?"

"Same thing. They're going after everyone who was there, everyone who saw him humiliated." Leo's phone buzzed with a text message. "Hold on."

The message was from Ben: "Emergency. Need to meet. NOW."

Leo showed Marco the screen. "This is just getting started."

They met Ben at a 24-hour diner on the edge of town, far from the main business district where curious eyes might connect them to recent events. Ben looked like he hadn't slept, his usually neat appearance disheveled and his hands shaking as he gripped his coffee cup.

"They came to my apartment this morning," Ben said without preamble. "Two guys in suits, said they were from the credit union's security department. Asked me a bunch of questions about 'suspicious network activity' and whether I'd been accessing customer information inappropriately."

Chloe arrived as Ben was explaining, sliding into the booth with the careful movements of someone holding themselves together through sheer will. Her usually warm eyes were red-rimmed with exhaustion.

"Let me guess," she said. "Anonymous complaints?"

"Three of them," Ben confirmed. "All filed yesterday, all claiming they'd seen evidence that I was using my position to access private financial data. They suspended me pending a full investigation."

"On what evidence?" Leo asked.

"Screenshots of my computer screen, apparently taken through my apartment window. They show me logged into the credit union's system after hours, which looks suspicious unless you know I was doing routine maintenance that my supervisor specifically authorized."

Leo felt the familiar chill of a well-executed operation. "Do you have documentation of that authorization?"

"Verbal authorization only. My supervisor is the one who called for the investigation."

The four friends sat in silence, the weight of their situation settling around them like fog. Leo's mind catalogued the damage: Marco's business under siege from six different agencies, Chloe facing professional misconduct charges, Ben suspended from his job pending investigation. Three lives being systematically destroyed through legal channels that offered no quick recourse.

"This is my fault," Leo said finally.

"Bullshit," Marco replied immediately. "Rex started this when he stole that eight ball. We just finished it."

"I should have anticipated the blowback. Should have prepared you for—"

"For what?" Chloe interrupted. "For the fact that we live in a town where one family can destroy people's lives with a phone call? Leo, we all knew the risks."

Ben leaned forward. "The question is, what do we do now? Because they're not going to stop with this. They're going to keep pushing until we're all completely destroyed."

Leo looked around the table at his friends—good people who'd trusted him, who'd followed his plan, who were now paying the price for his miscalculation. The familiar weight of command responsibility settled on his shoulders, along with something darker. Something that whispered of solutions that existed outside legal channels and official procedures.

"We have two choices," Leo said carefully. "We can cut our losses, accept that we lost this round, and hope they're satisfied with the damage they've already done."

"Or?" Marco prompted.

Leo met each of their eyes in turn. "Or we stop playing defense and start playing offense. We stop reacting to their moves and start making moves of our own."

"What kind of moves?" Chloe asked.

Leo's smile was cold and calculating, carrying echoes of a life he'd tried to leave behind. "The kind that remind the Vance family that they're not the only ones in this town with resources."

Outside the diner, October wind rattled the windows, and somewhere across town, Rex Vance was probably celebrating his victory. But celebrations had a way of ending abruptly when the game changed.

And Leo was very good at changing games.