It had been an excruciatingly long day. Valeria Vargas, the formidable leader of the Las Almas cartel, was at the end of her rope. The sun had long since dipped below the horizon, leaving her office bathed in the dim glow of a single desk lamp. For hours, she had been ensnared in a relentless cycle of barking orders through the phone, her voice rising with every call.

Her tone was sharp, biting, as she chewed out her subordinates one by one, making it clear that any further incompetence would be met with dire consequences. She could feel the tension coiling in her muscles, a tightness in her chest that refused to let go.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Valeria slammed the phone down with a huff, the sound echoing through the room. She leaned back in her chair, closing her eyes for a moment as she rubbed her temples in a futile attempt to ease the throbbing headache that had settled behind her eyes. Leading a cartel was no easy task, and days like this made her wonder if it was all worth it. The constant pressure, the endless demands, the need to be ruthless—it all weighed heavily on her shoulders.

But amidst her focus on the screen, she failed to notice the soft sound of the door opening behind her. You stepped into the room quietly, taking in the sight of her, so engrossed in her work, so burdened by the weight of her responsibilities. You knew better than anyone how much she carried on her shoulders, how the tough exterior she showed the world hid the vulnerability she rarely let anyone see.

As you approached her, the familiar scent of your cologne caught her attention, and she glanced up, her steely eyes softening ever so slightly when they met yours.