(Julie pov)

  I screamed into the gag until my throat burned, the sound coming out broken and useless. Beside me, my mother sagged in her chair, her head tilted forward, dried blood crusted along her forehead where the pistol had struck her the night before.

  She didn't even look at me. Maybe she couldn't. Maybe she didn't want to.

  There were no tears left in me. Whatever I had to cry had already been wrung out—fear, regret, shame, all of it. This was the end. And it was our fault. We had destroyed the only family we had left with our own hands.

  "Cálmense," (calm down) one of the guards said casually, like she was talking about the weather. "La jefa estará aquí en noche. No tienen que preocuparse... no van a estar aquí para ma?ana." (The boss will be here at night, no need to worry... you won't be here tomorrow)

  She stood there calmly, a massive belt-fed machine gun hanging from her like it was nothing more than an accessory. The weight of it felt heavier than the words she'd just spoken.

  I let my head fall back and finally stopped struggling. The room itself felt oppressive—cold concrete, harsh lights, racks of weapons lining the walls like trophies.

  A tank loomed off to the side, silent and unmoving, a reminder that this pce wasn't meant for mercy. It was built for war.

  My breathing slowed, shallow and uneven. There was nothing left to fight against. After tonight, there would be no more fear, no more guilt, no more consequences to face.

  Just nothing.

  —

  "And then I pulled out my trusty 1911—boom, boom. Two shots to her dome. Done."

  Car spoke through a mouthful of red pork tamale, completely unfazed, steam curling zily off the pte in front of her as if she were recounting nothing more than an old work story. Her tone was almost fond, nostalgic even.

  I paused with my spoon halfway to my mouth, the cocoa-scented milk rippling slightly as my hand stilled. "Talking about killing people so casually..." I finally said, finishing the bite. "It feels weird. Almost wrong."

  The kitchen was warm, quiet—too normal for the words she was using.

  Car shrugged, completely at ease. "Meh. They deserved it." She took another bite, chewing thoughtfully. "Rival cartels are basically terrorists half the time. No rules. No morals. We're different. We've got css. We don't touch innocents—we just handle our business." She smirked. "And anyone stupid enough to fuck with us."

  I nodded slowly, staring down into my bowl. Coco Krispies popped softly as they soaked up the milk. She had so many cereal boxes—huge ones too—but this one was my favorite.

  I hesitated, then gnced up at her. "This might be a weird question, but... how many people do you think you've..." I mimed pulling a trigger with my fingers. "Click click."

  Car ughed, a real one, like I'd just asked something cute instead of morbid. "Hard to say. Quite a few." She shrugged again, unbothered. "Doesn't really matter though. My boyfriend shouldn't worry about stuff like that."

  Boyfriend.

  The word settled in my chest, warm and heavy in the best way. It didn't scare me. It didn't feel wrong. It felt right.

  "I was wondering... when could I see the rest of your cars?" I asked casually, my spoon clinking softly against the ceramic bowl as I swirled it through the chocotey milk. The cereal had long since gone soggy, but I didn't mind. I liked soggy cereal. "You know, the other levels and all."

  Car didn't look up right away. She took her time finishing her bite, dabbing her lips with a napkin before finally meeting my eyes. There was something unreadable there—calm, controlled.

  "Soon," she said simply. "I just have a few things to take care of down there first. Some... garbage to take out, if you will."

  Her tone was light, almost dismissive, but it carried weight. The kind that made you understand without needing details.

  I nodded slowly, tracing the rim of my bowl with my thumb. "Yeah... makes sense."

  Whatever was down there, I figured it had to be bad—bad enough that even Car didn't want me anywhere near it yet.

  More and more questions kept stacking up in my head, one after another. Having a girlfriend who just casually happened to be a cartel queenpin was insane—there was so much I didn't know, so much I could ask. Curiosity kept itching at me, even as I pretended to be calm.

  "Do you have any... cool custom guns?" I asked, trying to sound casual as I scooped up another bite of soggy cereal. "I've seen stuff online—narcos showing off engraved rifles, gold parts, all that."

  Car smirked slightly, like the question amused her. "Oh yeah. Plenty," she said. "My collection's pretty hefty. It's all part of the garage—you'll see eventually."

  That answer lingered with me longer than I expected. I stared down into my bowl, the milk tinted chocote-brown, my reflection faint and warped on the surface.

  A garage full of cars made sense. A garage full of guns... not so much. The idea of machines built for speed and beauty sharing space with things designed purely to kill felt strange—unnatural, even. And yet, with Car, everything like that seemed to blur into something almost normal.

  I didn't say anything else. I just nodded, letting the thought sit there quietly, unsure whether I was excited... or a little afraid.

  "Do you own any other properties?" I asked quietly, gncing down at my bowl and realizing I'd finished everything except the milk. I lifted it and took a slow sip, listening to the faint clink of ceramic as I set it back down. "Outside... and inside Mexico, I mean."

  Car didn't hesitate. "Quite a few," she said casually, like she was listing grocery items. "Ten here in Mexico—spread out, isoted pces. Mountains, jungle, desert. Pces where no one goes looking." She paused only briefly. "Two in Colombia. Three in Costa Rica. One in Switzernd."

  I froze slightly.

  "I had one in the U.S. too," she added, her tone shifting just a hair. "But after I took over the business... well." She shrugged. "You understand."

  I swallowed, the milk suddenly feeling heavier in my stomach. The idea of her owning property in the U.S.—my country—while being the daughter of one of the most dangerous and powerful cartel leaders alive felt unreal. Almost absurd. Like two worlds that were never supposed to touch... somehow already had.

  I stared at the empty bowl for a moment longer, trying to wrap my head around it all, before finally looking back up at her—still calm, still composed, like everything she'd just said was the most normal thing in the world.

  "Wow..." I said softly, genuinely stunned. "You're... really wealthy." It felt like an understatement the second it left my mouth.

  That many properties—spread across countries—each one probably rger than anything I'd ever lived in. "Did you ever think you'd reach this level? I mean... you have everything."

  Car's hand slid over mine, warm and steady, grounding me. Her thumb rested against my knuckles like it belonged there.

  "Did I ever expect to have a twenty-one-year-old boyfriend?" she said with a faint smile. "No." She exhaled, thoughtful now. "I thought my life would be lived under my mother's shadow. Under my sisters'. I never pnned on leading anything." Her eyes drifted for a second, somewhere far away.

  "But my mother trusted me with the business... and once I started running it, I realized I was good at it."

  She gnced back at me, a quiet confidence settling in her expression.

  "I like it," she added. "Actually—I love it."

  She took one st bite of her tamale, wiped her fingers, then leaned back and stretched like she didn't rule half the world's shadows.

  "That was yummy," she said simply.

  I watched her, still trying to reconcile the woman beside me—the one smiling over breakfast—with the scale of the life she carried so effortlessly.

  "You're... so amazing," I said quietly, my eyes staring at her like I couldn't help it. The words felt small compared to what I meant, but they were all I had.

  She ughed softly, the kind that came easy, like she wasn't used to being admired this way. "You're amazing too," she replied, standing up and carrying her pte to the sink.

  When she turned back to me, there was a spark in her eyes, pyful and knowing. I recognized that look instantly—she had an idea.

  "Want to go see the barracks?" she asked.

  My heart jumped. I didn't even pretend to think about it.

  "Yes," I said immediately, excitement creeping into my voice.

  Finally, I was going to see what was hidden behind all that discipline, all that power.

  ——

  Extra chapter cause someone donated :)