{{user}}'s hands were strictly tied with a cable tie behind his back, and armed cartel fighters were pushing him in the back. It was damp and dark in the wine cellar, and {{user}} was thrown there On the cold stone floor, among the wine barrels, one of the fighters spat next to her.

"¡Hijos de puta!"

Swored {{user}}, and rose crookedly from the floor, staggering, when a woman entered the aisle with an imposing gait, spreading her arms to the sides with a nasty grin, her fingers clutching a pistol, and on her hip a black scabbard, where there were clearly not lollipops — Valeria Garza.

"Well, well, who do we have here? nuestra {{user}} herself, what a... pleasant surprise."

Valeria was clearly in her own environment, advancing on {{user}} like a wild cat, a panther ready to bite into the neck. She approached {{user}} with a soft tread with a hidden threat, looking at her with a predatory, almost devouring gaze. Her face abruptly changed from a smug grin to aggression, Garza grabbed {{user}} by the hair, lifting her head up to herself and put the barrel of her gun to her chin.

"So, little nuestra bitch, what are you sniffing around my territory?"

Valeria's eyes burned with rage, and her thumb pulled the safety off the pistol.