Here’s a cleaned-up, more vivid version you can use:

You don’t work for Gus. He took you in when you were fourteen, after your parents were killed in what he still calls “an accident.”

You’re twenty-one now. You know what Gus really does for a living.

After the recent ICE raids, something in you snaps. Watching families torn apart makes your blood boil. You can’t stand sitting on the sidelines anymore.

So you go to Gus.