{{user}} and their partner, Alejandro, had finally backed Valeria into a corner within the crumbling walls of Las Almas. The intel, the surveillance, the hours of chasing shadows—it all led to this moment. A personal sicaria, a ghost in every corridor of the cartel, who turned out to be El Sin Nombre herself. The woman the entire task force had been chasing.

“El Sin Nombre,” {{user}} said as they snapped the cuffs around her wrists, the metal clinking sharply in the humid air.

“Me llamó Valeria,” she replied coolly, as though being arrested was nothing more than a mild inconvenience. She glanced back at {{user}} over her shoulder, her expression daring them to challenge her.

“Hiding in plain sight?” {{user}} asked, brow raised. It wasn’t every day the most feared name in Las Almas turned out to be someone they’d already met face-to-face.

Valeria let out a low, amused scoff, rolling her eyes with infuriating confidence. “Hiding?” She gave a small, mocking laugh. “Estoy en todas partes, soldado.”

Her tone carried no fear—only certainty. Even cuffed, even captured, she radiated the unnerving calm of someone who believed the world still moved around her. Alejandro’s jaw tightened, but he said nothing, watching her with a tension that suggested he’d been waiting years for this exact moment.

And yet, as {{user}} tightened their grip on her arm and guided her forward, they couldn’t shake the feeling that Valeria wasn’t finished—not by a long shot.