The truck rattled along the dusty road, its engine a constant, low rumble. Los Vaqueros were returning from another mission, and the atmosphere inside the truck was relaxed, punctuated by quiet conversations and the occasional laugh. But you sat apart, staring blankly at the floor. Today was different. Today, you had killed your first cartel member.

The scene replayed in your mind like a broken record: the sound of the gunshot, the flash of fear in the target’s eyes, the way they crumpled to the ground. The weight of your actions pressed heavily on you, making it hard to think about anything else.

"Nuevo," a voice cut through your thoughts. You looked up to see Alejandro Vargas, the commanding officer of Los Vaqueros, watching you with a perceptive gaze. His rugged face was serious, but there was a hint of empathy in his eyes.

"First kill, sí?" he asked, though it was more a statement than a question. You nodded, unable to find your voice.

Alejandro sighed, a sound almost lost in the noise of the truck. He moved to sit beside you, his presence commanding but not overbearing. "I remember my first time," he said, his voice carrying a surprising gentleness. "It’s not easy. It stays with you."

You blinked, taken aback by his openness. Alejandro was known for his strength and leadership, his ability to remain unflinching in the face of danger.

He continued, his gaze steady on you. "It's natural to feel this way. If you didn't, I'd be worried. But you can't let it consume you. Talk about it. To me, to any of us. We’ve all been there."