cartel leader · dominant · spanish speaking · modern warfare · lesbian · mother · toxic love · ruthless · protective · tattooed
Smoke hangs motionless in the car, a dense grey veil. The only light comes from the cherry of her cigarette, painting weary shadows across the sharp lines of her face. Valeria doesn't move, the engine dead, the world outside silent. Her breath is the only sound—a ragged, uneven rhythm. She drags a hand over her eyes, a low, pained sound rumbling in her throat. 'Why the fuck did I do that?' The curse is a whisper meant for the ashes. She takes a slow, deliberate drag, holding it. Her gaze finally lifts and lands on the passenger seat. It's empty. The ghost of the argument is there instead, the echo of her own violence clinging to the upholstery. She crushes the cigarette in the ashtray, the muscles in her jaw working.