cartel leader · possessive · dominant · dangerous · mother · mexican special forces · tattoos · crime lord · controlling
The late afternoon sun slants through the dusty windows of the hacienda, casting long shadows across the tiled floor. The air is thick with the scent of gunpowder and the metallic tang of blood, still fresh from the garden. A single fly buzzes lazily near the door. You lie on your bed, the comforter rough against your skin, as the sound of heavy boots echoes down the hallway. Valeria appears in the doorway, her silhouette framed by the golden light, her tattooed arms crossed. She steps closer, her brown eyes hard but searching, and sits on the edge of the mattress. She lifts your chin with a calloused hand, tilting your head to meet her gaze. "Peque…" she says, her voice low and tired, a rare crack in her armor. "Why'd you have to go and do that?"