The border lights of Villa Dorada flickered like nervous stars as Tobias guided the old car off the gravel road and into the outskirts. The mountains loomed ahead — black silhouettes against a restless sky. Somewhere beyond them, behind high walls and whispers, waited the men he had once supplied and escaped.Now he was coming back — not as a courier, not as a debtor, but as the man carrying a valuable item no ledger could trace.The sealed powder wasn’t theirs, and no one in Villa Dorada could claim it. It belonged to no cartel, no boss around here — only to him.It was the one piece of the underworld still clean, untouched by names or histories, and tonight, he believed it would buy him entry where bullets could not.He stepped out of the car. The wind carried the echo of sirens fading far behind him. His pulse steadied. The sealed 5 kilograms in his briefcase were heavy — not with memory, but with purpose.Just days ago, El Moro had placed it in his hands — a test, a token, and a

Rico’s lips trembled. “We— we didn’t know—”“Exactly,” Don Mendoza snapped. “You never know who you’re mocking until the gun’s at your teeth.”No one dared breathe.He jerked his chin toward the bar. “Pour him a drink.”One of the thugs hurried forward, his hands shaking as he reached for a dusty bottle of whiskey. The glass trembled as he poured. Tobias said nothing. He only stared down at the amber liquid, watching his reflection shimmer across its surface — calm, unreadable.The past isn’t gone, he thought. It’s waiting.Don Mendoza pulled out a chair and sank into it across from him. His joints cracked as he sat, the weight of years pressing into every movement.“You shouldn’t have come back, Tobias,” he said, his voice was low. “Villa Dorada eats men whole now.”Tobias’s eyes lifted. His tone was quiet, but it cut like steel.“If that is the case, then I’ll eat back.”The line landed like thunder.A hush rolled through the hall, sharp and electric. Men who had faced gunfire with

For a heartbeat, the world froze — chain mid-arc, fists half-raised — and all that remained was the quiet before impact.Like a storm waiting for permission to strike.The chain came first. Tobias caught it with one hand, the other snapping forward like a blade. His palm struck Rico’s wrist with a crack so sharp it tore through the night.Rico screamed — the chain slipped from his hand, clattering to the gravel. Before the sound even died, Tobias twisted, driving his knee into Rico’s gut. The thug folded instantly, coughing blood and air, stumbling backward into the shadows.One down.Another came from the left, swinging his baton wildly. Tobias sidestepped, cool as a shadow in the wind. The thug tried again — a horizontal strike this time — but Tobias caught his arm, turned, and snapped the joint in a single fluid motion.The man’s baton flew from his hand. Tobias’s elbow followed — a swift, surgical blow to the ribs. The thug went down hard, gasping, rolling in the dirt.“Two,” Tobi

The climb felt endless.Mist clung to the windshield like breath on glass as Tobias guided the car uphill. The narrow road twisted through the sleeping hills of Villa Dorada, each turn whispering wealth’s old secrets. Below, the city flickered faintly — a bed of dying embers stretched beneath the rain.Up here, silence ruled. Even the wind moved carefully, as though afraid to disturb what the powerful called home.The briefcase rested on the passenger seat, its locks glinting whenever lightning split the clouds. Tobias’s fingers drummed once upon it, a habit of thought. He didn’t need to look inside to remember what lay within. The vial — that shard of purity — pulsed quietly, like a secret heart still beating.He exhaled, his breath misting the glass.“Don Esteban Dorada,” he murmured. “Let’s see what your walls hide.”The tires crunched over gravel as the slope leveled. A pair of golden lion statues rose on either side of a wrought-iron gate. Beyond them stretched a driveway wide

The older guard swallowed hard. For the first time since stepping out of the booth, his baton lowered. His pride went with it.He leaned in close to Tobias’s window, the rain running down his face like sweat. His voice was smaller now — heavy with a respect born of fear.“What do you come here for, sir?”Tobias’s gaze drifted past him, toward the towering gates. “Business with Don Esteban,” he said evenly. “I’ll pose no danger when I’m inside those walls. I promise.”“If I may humbly ask,” the guard said, his tone was stripped of arrogance, “what business, sir?”Tobias tapped the briefcase beside him. “Five kilograms of pure cocaine.”The words fell like a dropped stone. No emphasis. No smirk. Just truth — or something that sounded enough like it.The older guard blinked once. Then he looked at his partner — who was staring back at him, pale and wordless. It was the older one who moved first, nodding slowly.“Open the gate.”The younger hesitated. “But—”“I said open it,” the older hi