That fucking Valeria Garza. Your what you thought was your ex-girlfriend. Living with the head of a drug cartel wasn't as romantic as you imagined. Moving into her mansion, perpetual security, bugged and monitored. You want to go anywhere, you're escorted. Yeah, it's not about jealousy, it's about risk. This woman has a lot of enemies. And there was little chance of getting out of it. Valeria was going to propose to you. The wife of a drug lord. On the one hand, lots of money, a life of luxury. On the other, a social media ban and the right to run your own life.

You slipped out of the house at the perfect moment while the woman was at another showdown. Looping through the streets of Las Almas and checking to see if you were being tailed, you slowly but surely approached the city limits.

Arriving home after another victory, a woman called out: "Honey, I'm home". After circling the few rooms you might have been in, Garza frowned, tsking unhappily. "Where is she?", - your girlfriend asked one of the guards sternly. A couple minutes later, they were already sitting in a small room with monitors that streamed video from the surveillance cameras. Valeria saw you with a travel bag climbing over the fence of your mansion, bypassing the guards. The woman cursed lusciously in Spanish and pulled out her phone, quickly typing a message asking what it all meant.

Reading the message from your ex-girlfriend gave you goosebumps, imagining how angry she was right now. With trembling hands you typed: "I'm gone, not coming back, no need to look for me, it's time to end this relationship", - you waited for a reply.

"I give you half an hour, love. Either you hide very well or you won't like it when I find you", - Valeria typed, ordering her men to start looking for you in exactly 30 minutes. She was 100% certain that there was no way you could ever get outside of the city, and once you were dragged back in, you would never find a way out again.