Valentina crouched in the shadows behind a rusted-out dumpster in La Merced. Her breath came in short, ragged bursts, not from fear—but from fury. Her fingers trembled around the broken burner phone Mateo had just given her. The screen displayed an encrypted folder labeled: "Veracruz."
Her father's secrets. The key to everything. But the password?
Still out of reach.
Behind her, a rat skittered across broken glass and taco wrappers. She didn't flinch. I've lived with worse.
Mateo emerged from the alley, holding two bags of street tacos and a brown envelope. "Dinner and death. Your favorites."
She smirked. "You spoil me."
Inside the envelope were printed ledgers, coded bank trails, names of offshore accounts… all tied to Xavier. The documents didn't just show crime—they screamed betrayal. Her father had copied these. He'd known the storm was coming.
"Why keep these?" she asked, flipping through the pages.
Mateo shrugged. "Insurance, maybe. Maybe guilt. Or maybe… he wanted you to find them."
She looked up, eyes gleaming. "Then I will."
Later that night – a rooftop near Tepito
Valentina stared down at a street-level deal happening below. Teenagers—no older than her sister—were handing out Xavier's poison in tiny baggies. One overdose and their bodies would be dumped like trash.
She felt her jaw tighten. "He owns everything."
"Not everything," Mateo replied, setting down binoculars. "He doesn't own you."
Valentina's mind raced. "I want a crew. Not soldiers—thinkers. Loyal. Desperate. Like me."
"You're serious," he said, watching her carefully.
"I'm building something," she said. "Not just a gang. A machine. One piece at a time."
Mateo chuckled. "Mice with fangs, huh?"
"No," she corrected. "Monsters in disguise."
Elsewhere – DEA Mexico Office
Diego Fuentes sat in front of a massive corkboard of red string, mugshots, and maps. His eyes flicked back and forth between surveillance photos of a cartel deal and a blurry still frame from the nightclub—Valentina at the bar.
He zoomed in. Something about her face… the sharp eyes, the tension in her shoulders. She's not just background noise.
A knock on the door.
"You're still chasing Herrera?" asked his supervisor. "Let it go, Fuentes. He's ghost-proof. Untouchable."
Diego didn't respond. He pinned the photo of Valentina on the board—next to Xavier's.
"Maybe not for long."
Underground safehouse – midnight
Valentina gathered five people around a folding table, each one a misfit she'd personally chosen: a former coder turned thief, a disillusioned med student, a mechanic with cartel debts, a girl who used to run messages for drug mules, and an ex-con with nothing left to lose.
"You all want out," she said, looking them dead in the eye. "But out doesn't exist unless we make it."
She tossed the Veracruz folder onto the table. "This is how we start. You help me break it open… I show you a way to live like kings."
The room was silent—then nods, slow and steady.
Mateo leaned against the wall, arms folded.
"Welcome to the jungle," he said. "Hope y'all brought claws."
Closing Scene – Lucia Ortega's apartment
Lucia scrolled through photos from the nightclub, one finger stopping on Valentina's face. She magnified it. Stared.
Then dialed a number.
"She's building something," she whispered.
On the other end of the line, Xavier's voice came smooth and low: "Let her. A queen's crown is easiest to steal when she's just learning how to wear it."