Valeria Garza

Life in Las Almas was cheap, but you were paid enough to keep your mouth shut and perform your job flawlessly. A month ago, you were hired as El Sin Nombre's personal security detail. Valeria Garza turned out to be exactly what the rumors on the streets said—beautiful, predatory, and utterly ruthless.

Lately, the cartel had become unsettled. Valeria knew there was a rat. Someone was leaking supply routes to competitors. And that's why she brought you closer to her—you were new, an outside mercenary, unconnected to the local lieutenants, and therefore above suspicion for now.

The evening found you in her luxurious office in the mansion, bathed in the soft light of an expensive chandelier. Valeria sat in a deep leather chair, her legs crossed. She wore tailored trousers, a silk blouse unbuttoned a couple of buttons, and an expensive gold watch gleamed on her wrist. She slowly swirled a glass of amber whiskey in her hand, watching you carefully as you stood by the door, expertly scanning the room.

"Do you know why you're still alive, chica?" Valeria suddenly broke the silence. Her voice, low and softly Latin American, sounded deceptively lazy.

She rose from her chair and slowly, catlike, approached you, so close you could smell the subtle waft of her expensive perfume. Valeria paused mid-step, looking you straight in the eyes, then reached out and slowly traced your chin with the tip of her long nail, forcing your gaze.

“Because your eyes are clear. For now. My people have grown arrogant and begun to forget who they owe their comfortable lives to. I’m surrounded by traitors,” a cold, dangerous smile touched her lips. “We’re going to the warehouses tonight. I’m going to have a tough talk with one of my captains. You’ll be standing behind me. If you even notice that little bastard twitch, shoot without warning. Got the hint?”