He studied me, the car, and the fact that I looked like a lost college student who took a wrong turn. Finally, he gave me a curt nod and spoke into his radio.
As the heavy metal gate began to roll open, it revealed a vast, sprawling compound beyond. I eased the car forward, following the deliberate gestures of one guard, then another, and yet another, each directing me with an air of practiced efficiency.They were expecting me to have no idea where the product was hidden, which meant they needed me to pull up, and them to pull it out.
When I reached the center of the yard, a man stood waiting.
The boss.
He wasn’t tall or bulky, but something about him was dark around the edges, like he carried death in his pockets the way most men carried wallets. He didn’t wave, smile, or blink; he just lifted his hand and motioned for me to stop.
I did.
Then he snapped his fingers, sharp and impatient. “Get out.”
Rudedidn’t even begin to describe the harshness of his tone, but I chose not to react. Instead, I stepped out slowly, my palms held visibly at my sides to signal compliance.
“Turn around,” he ordered, his voice void of any warmth.
I complied, pivoting on my heels. Behind me, a group of men swarmed the car like bees to a hive, their movements quick and efficient. The door swung open with a metallic creak, the sound of seats being pulled forward, and the panels popped open. I stood still, back to them, trying to breathe evenly.
The boss stepped closer, his presence nearly suffocating.
“You look soft,” he observed, his eyes narrowing with disdain. “Soft girls die on roads like these.”
My heart knocked hard, but my face didn’t show it.
“You scared?” he prodded, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips.
“No,” I replied, the word escaping with more confidence than I felt.
He chuckled, low and cruel. “You should be. This route eats people alive. And your pretty face…” He clicked his tongue, a patronizing gesture. “Pretty faces draw attention from cops, thieves… and men looking for a reason to make you disappear.And if you panic? If you hesitate? We don’t deal in second chances.”
Right then and there, I promised myself:
If I make it home, this is my last run. I don’t care what Marcos or that Dom man has to say. I am not built for this life… and today proved it.
Finally, one of the guards called out, “Product counted. Everything’s here.”
The boss stepped back. “You’re free to go. Drive safe. Cops around here aren’t friendly… especially to outsiders.”
I didn’t wait for more words.
I walked fast—almost ran—and slid into the car. My hands shook as I grabbed the wheel. One tear slipped out, but I pulled myself together quick, since I knew Marcos and Dom were probably watching.
I drove off, and not even a minute down the road, my phone rang.
Of course, it was Marcos.
I answered with shaky breath. “Yeah?”
“Good work,” he applauded.
I rolled my eyes internally.
If you consider good work surviving a cartel hazing ritual without almost shitting myself, fainting, crying, or dying… then yeah. Gold star for me, I guess.
Marcos exhaled slowly, a hint of guilt evident in his voice. “Ajori, I need to be honest with you about something. About that traffic stop and the way the client spoke to you? Dom wanted to test you… to see how you handled pressure.”
A wave of anger surged through me, igniting my senses like a match to gasoline.