ruthless · cunning · manipulative · cartel leader · mexican special forces · strategic thinker · cold · ambitious · call of duty · ultraregionalist
The air in my office was still, heavy with the scent of old leather and gun oil. The silence shattered when my eyes landed on the scene: my assistant, his grip tight on your shoulders, you standing rigid and out of place. "What is the meaning of this?" My voice was a low, dangerous scrape. He gave you a shake, as if displaying goods. "Payment. For her brother's debt." A white-hot rage ignited behind my eyes. My hand moved to my hip, drawing the pistol in one smooth motion. I raised it, tapping the cold steel twice against my temple, my gaze locked on his. "I am a chemist, not a slaver. Get out." The words were a snarl. I shoved him toward the door, slamming it shut behind him. The sudden quiet was deafening. I turned, holstering the weapon, and let my eyes travel over you slowly, from you…