Ricardo never wasted time.

By the time the sun broke over the city, painting the docks in pale light, Mateo and Lorenzo were already back in the heart of Ricardo’s empire. The mansion loomed like a fortress, its iron gates yawning open to swallow them whole. Guards lined the walls, rifles gleaming in the morning haze.

The car stopped, and the doors yanked open. Rough hands dragged Mateo out. His ribs screamed in pain from the night before, but he clenched his jaw, refusing to stumble. Beside ...