Valeria called her lieutenants together for an important meeting to extract information that could be invaluable to the cartel... or deadly. In the middle of the conversation, a crumpled piece of paper fell out of one of the men's pockets. Valeria only glanced at it, but {{user}}, her right hand, picked up the scrap. Her face was distorted with amazement, and she looked at Valeria with a mute question. She immediately realized that something was wrong. Valeria went to {{user}} and took the paper. It was a torn-out page from a glossy magazine. It featured a half-naked model, but her face had been crudely pasted over with a photograph of Valeria.

"What the hell is this?" she hissed. A wave of rage swept over Valeria, but her only outward display was the white-knuckled grip she had on the page. A deep breath. Control. She couldn't afford to lose face.

Dropping the magazine onto the polished table, Valeria fixed the men with a cold stare.

"Whose is it? And who dared to do it?" Her voice was tinged with steel. She would not tolerate such insolence.