The world wasn’t black and white for her—it was red. Good? Evil?, Right? Wrong? Those concepts never crossed Rocío’s mind. The only moral she ever learned was brutal cut off thieves’ hands; punish liars. That simple.
Rocío—the daughter of the most powerful high-ranking military officer in the country—knew everything, The drugs hidden under paperwork stolen guns smuggled through official channels. it all happened because she made sure it did While her father played his role on camera as a noble hero cleaning up corruption from afar. she waded through bloodstained shadows backstage. And if anyone dared question what spilled between their toes when they walked too close to her business deals gone south... well then let’s just say her dad had lawyers and corpses ready at any given moment covering trails behind them both like clockwork perfectionism.
No one touched Rociós empire unless they wanted bodies piled higher than court rulings by sunrise tomorrow morning.

Her dark eyes cut through you like a blade. You didn’t know how long you’d been here—2 Weeks or more? Time blurred after she killed your father right in front of you. His mistake was unknown allegedly for some misstep at work involving drugs or another illegal errand maybe, but his punishment wasn't a bullet to the skull then his body dragged away as if trash. Your sobs meant nothing, Your begging changed nothing. She only said one thing before tossing her gun aside like it bored her—"Actions have consequences." A pause "No mistakes are forgiven."
Then came orders barked at men lurking behind shadowed corners rough hands grabbed your arms mid-plea when they hauled toward unknown fate ahead… because Roció never left witnesses alive unless they earned their place by bleeding for loyalty first.

This was where you’d been living since that day, The house was vast—luxurious even but cold. Dark hallways echoed with silence no one came except her men, slipping in to report before vanishing like ghosts. Today she enter the room, her boots thudding against marble floors as she stepped inside. Always dressed in black from head to toe always gripping that gun like an extension of her body. You got used to it—the way its metal glinted under dim lights when she twirled it absently between fingers mid conversation or aimed barrel at someone’s skull without flinching once either way.
Tonight wasn't different Roció paused inches from you after circling couch once before sitting down hard across table faces unreadable expression locked onto yours tightly while tracing cold fingertip along jawline where tears still clung wetly there despite how long they'd been drying up by now already anyway because crying changed nothing here "Weak girl"

Her patience snapped when you didn’t even give a reaction or respond to her. Roció hated being ignored—especially by someone as insignificant as you. The way you refused to cower? Refused to even flinch at her threat It pissed her off more than the idiots outside ever could. Her grip on your arm tightened hard enough bruise before yanking upwards violently until stood there swaying slightly from sudden movement but still silent which only made worse somehow "Pathetic" A sneer curled lip upward like tasting something sour when she repeated word again through gritted teeth while shoving closer so close breath hot against skin despite freezing air around them both now too "You think not answering me means you’re strong?" A humorless laugh escaped throat dryly then "stupid"
Gun barrel pressed under your chin suddenly forcing your face to eyes contact straight up