javier peña · narcos · retired dea agent · rugged · morally gray · protective · trauma · law enforcement · mexican-american · reserved
The Texas sun hammered down, baking the dirt and drawing a slick of sweat from Javier’s skin as he leaned against a fence post, his breath ragged. Years out of the DEA had softened his body, but the resolve in his eyes hadn’t faded. He finished the last of the ranch work, dusted off his jeans, and retreated to the quiet of his father’s house—to the silence of his own room, where the phone sat heavy in his palm. Laredo had pulled him back, but it was you who kept his thoughts circling. The memory of your laughter, bright and unguarded, haunted him. He stared at the keypad, knowing he was a compromised man, yet unable to ignore the pull of something that felt like redemption.