Arturo leaned forward in his high-backed leather chair, his fingers steepled beneath his chin, his gaze sharp and calculating. The room was silent, the weight of his question hanging in the air like a blade poised to strike.
"Mr. Jack..." he began, his voice smooth, measured, but laced with the edge of a man who knew how to wield power like a weapon. "If you don’t mind me asking..." His eyes burned into mine, unflinching, demanding. "How did you become so rich... all of a sudden?"
He paused, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous tone. "From the information I have..." His fingers tapped lightly against the armrest, each movement deliberate, controlled. "Your net worth just keeps rising... and doesn’t show any signs of slowing down."
I took a slow sip of my tea, letting the silence stretch, letting the tension build. The cup clinked gently as I set it down, my gaze never leaving his. "Everyone has secrets, Mr. Arturo," I said, my voice smooth, unhurried, but laced with something darker, something feral.
"Some are buried... Some are bought..." My lips curved into a slow, knowing smirk. "And some are taken."
Arturo’s eyes narrowed, studying me like a predator sizing up prey. "That’s not an answer, Jack," he said, his voice dry, but there was a hint of something else—respect, maybe, or the recognition of a kindred spirit. "You didn’t build an empire overnight by luck."
I chuckled, low, dark, unfazed. "No," I agreed, my voice calm, but my eyes burned with something wild.
"I built it by knowing one thing..." I leaned forward, my gaze locked onto his, unblinking, unapologetic. "Power is everything."
Arturo exhaled sharply, his fingers tightening slightly around his cup. "Power is a tool, Jack," he said, his voice measured, but his eyes gleamed with something sharper. "But even the most powerful men can fall." He paused, his gaze burning into mine.
"Just think..." His voice dropped, colder, more dangerous. "Even if you owned the whole world..." His lips twisted in a dark smirk. "Wouldn’t you still be killed by a single bullet?"
I didn’t flinch. I didn’t look away.
"Yeah," I said, my voice calm, but my eyes burned with something feral, something that promised more than words ever could.
"I would." My fingers traced the rim of my cup, slow, deliberate, like a man caressing the trigger of a gun. "But power isn’t just about owning the world, Mr. Arturo." My gaze locked onto his, dark, unwavering. "It’s about making sure no one dares to pull the trigger."
Arturo stared at me for a long moment, his expression unreadable, but his eyes betrayed him—gleaming with something like respect, or maybe the thrill of facing a worthy opponent.
"You have a way with words, Jack," he said, his voice dry, but there was a hint of something darker—approval, maybe, or the acknowledgment of a man who understood the game. "But words won’t save you when the bullets start flying."
I smirked, my voice low, dangerous, unapologetic. "Neither will fear," I replied, my eyes burning into his. "But control? Leverage? Knowing exactly who holds the gun... and who doesn’t?" My lips curved into a dark smile. "That’s where real power lies."
Arturo exhaled slowly, his gaze never leaving mine. "You play a dangerous game, Jack," he murmured, his voice low, warning, but there was something else there—respect, maybe, or the thrill of facing someone who spoke the same language of power and blood.
"I don’t play, Mr. Arturo," I said, my voice calm, but my eyes burned with something wild, something that promised more than words ever could. "I win."
Arturo took a slow, deliberate sip of his tea, his gaze never leaving mine. "Do you have any secret power here in Mexico?" he asked, his voice measured, but his eyes gleamed with something sharper—curiosity, suspicion, the instinct of a man who knew how to smell danger.
I leaned back, my lips curving into a slow, knowing smirk. "Do you know Hector?" I asked, my voice smooth, but my eyes burned with something feral.
Arturo frowned, his fingers tightening around his cup. "Hector...?" he murmured, his voice thoughtful, but his eyes narrowed as he searched his memory. "Are you talking about Hector who took control of Tony’s business... after Tony disappeared all of a sudden?" His gaze flicked to me, sharp, calculating.
I chuckled, low, dark, unfazed. "Tony didn’t disappear," I said, my voice calm, but my eyes burned with something cold, something that promised violence. "He was chopped..." I paused, letting the words hang in the air, letting them sink in. "And fed to the dogs."
The room fell silent.
Arturo’s tea cup clinked against the saucer as his hand trembled—just slightly. Lorena’s mother gasped, her fingers flying to her lips, her eyes wide with horror. Lorena stared at me, her dark eyes gleaming with something wild—shock, maybe, but something else, something darker, something hungrier.
"H-How did you know?" Arturo demanded, his voice sharp, disbelieving, but his eyes burned with something else—respect, maybe, or the thrill of facing a man who played the game at the same level as he did.
I chuckled, taking a slow, deliberate sip of my tea, my gaze never leaving his. "Because Hector..." I paused, letting the tension build, letting the weight of my words settle over them like a shroud. "Is my dog."
The silence that followed was deafening.
Arturo’s face paled, his fingers clenching the armrests of his chair. Lorena’s mother let out a soft, horrified gasp, her hand trembling as she reached for her tea. Lorena didn’t flinch. She just stared at me, her dark eyes gleaming with something wild, something that matched the fire in mine.
"You..." Arturo began, his voice hoarse, but his eyes burned with something new—respect, maybe, or the realization that he was sitting across from a man who wasn’t just a player in the game, but the one who wrote the rules.
"I own this city, Arturo," I said, my voice calm, but my eyes burned with something feral, something that promised more than words ever could. "The cops. The politicians. The cartels." My lips curved into a dark smirk. "Even the dogs that ate Tony."