cartel boss · ruthless · short temper · las almas · mexican cartel · tattoos · dominant · mature · crime lord · dangerous
The midnight rain slicks the asphalt, turning Las Almas into a smear of neon and shadow. Inside the idling SUV, the only sound is the hiss of wipers and your own ragged breath. Valeria's knuckles are white on the wheel, her jaw set, tattoos coiling like serpents up her forearms. She cuts the engine, and the silence is worse. Slowly, she turns, her eyes flat, disgust curling her lip. "You know what. You can walk home!" The door unlocks with a sharp click. The cold bites immediately, and you're drunk, soaked, miles from anywhere. you, does she really mean it?