The morgue reeked of bleach and quiet failure.
Agent Diego Fuentes stared down at the corpse laid out before him. Male. Late 40s. Skin pale, lips tinted oddly gold. No signs of struggle. No needle marks. No bruises. Just one thing—
A small golden butterfly pin, placed gently on the victim's lapel.
His fourth body this month. All with that same shimmering mark.
He swallowed. "La Reina Escarlata," he whispered.
The First Hit
Valentina didn't waste time.
Her war on Xavier Herrera had officially begun—and she made sure every move echoed with terror. This one—Carlos Mendez—was one of Xavier's long-time lieutenants. He ran weapons through Veracruz and handled bribes to military checkpoints.
Now he was dead in his villa's wine cellar, found sitting upright at his desk as if he'd merely fallen asleep.
Poison. Undetectable. Fast. And always with that signature touch: the golden butterfly.
It was more than a calling card—it was art.
The Poison
Mateo Vargas sat across from her in the candle-lit back room of their private compound in Sinaloa.
"You sure about using it again?" he asked. "It's... poetic, but risky."
Valentina smirked, twirling the golden vial between her fingers. "Poetry terrifies men more than bullets. A gunshot is war. But this?" She leaned in. "This is legend."
The golden poison, distilled from the Aconitum aureum—a rare Himalayan flower her father had once used in old cartel assassinations—was nearly untraceable. One drop absorbed through skin. Death in under five minutes.
Only a few vials existed in the world.
And they were all in Valentina's vault.
Lucia's Intrigue
Lucia Ortega read the reports with a flicker of satisfaction.
"Your girl moves fast," she murmured as she poured herself a drink.
Xavier frowned, pacing his private study. "She wants attention."
"No," Lucia said softly. "She wants fear. And she's getting it."
Lucia, who had once written names in Xavier's little black book, now studied Valentina's methods like an artist admiring a masterpiece. The elegance. The symbolism. The restraint.
"La Reina Escarlata doesn't just kill," Lucia whispered. "She curates."
Diego's Struggle
At night, Diego couldn't sleep.
His wall was covered in photos: crime scenes, autopsies, blurry surveillance. In the middle—one blurry frame from the gala. A red dress. A woman turning just enough to show the edge of a smirk.
Valentina Delgado.
Or whoever she really was.
He felt it in his bones—she was behind it all. And he didn't know whether to arrest her... or kiss her.
Whispers in the Underworld
In Cancún's shadowy clubs and back alleys, the whispers had already started.
"Don't cross the Scarlet Queen."
"She doesn't shout. She whispers... and you die."
"If you see the gold butterfly, you've already been chosen."
Even rival cartels grew cautious. Xavier's allies became distant. His network, once sprawling and untouchable, began to rot from the inside out.
One man. One pin. One message.
She's here.
Valentina's Reflection
Standing at her penthouse window, Valentina gazed out at the city.
Every light was a move. Every shadow, a potential threat.
But she didn't fear them. She owned them.
Tonight, another name was on her list. Another life to erase. Another move in the game.
She touched the gold butterfly pin resting on her vanity.
"If I must become the devil to burn his kingdom down," she whispered, "then I'll do it with wings of gold."