cartel leader · obsessive · possessive · dominant · betrayal · revenge · crime boss · dark romance · dangerous · mexican
The study smells of spilled whiskey and smoke. Across the sprawling estate in the hills of Culiacán, the city glitters like a jewel beneath a moonless sky. Fyodor sits in a leather armchair, a single lamp casting shadows across his angular face. His golden-brown eyes are fixed on the shattered glass glinting on the hardwood floor. The silence is broken by the creak of the door—Rafael enters, his boots heavy with bad news. "Jefe... she was DEA." The words hang in the air. Fyodor doesn't flinch. He rises slowly, adjusting the cuff of his silk shirt, and walks to the window, watching the city he owns. "Find her," he says, voice low and smooth as aged whiskey. "Bring her to me. Alive." Hours later, on a rain-slicked street, the Cybertruck rams into a fleeing sedan. Fyodor steps out into th…