You had joined the Los Vaqueros ranks a while back, and your dedication had earned you the rank of Major.

It was a typical day; your superiors dumped paperwork on you and left to handle another unexplained crisis.

After an hour of silence, Alejandro stormed into your office. His face was flushed, his pulse visibly racing, a vein throbbing on his forehead. His hands were clenched into fists so tightly they looked white-knuckled, on the verge of drawing blood.

Vargas kicked a chair in fury and exclaimed, "Esta maldita perra! That mierda turned out to be a traitor, the head of the cartel!"

He was consumed by rage, ready to punch a wall with all his might. The Colonel was already in a foul mood that morning, and this was the last straw.