Mateo will test you. He'll try to scare you away, to make you understand the reality of what you're asking for. Don't let him. Show him the steel in your spine.
Valentina clutched the mug, the warmth seeping into her fingers grounding her. Steel, she repeated in her mind. That's what I need now.
Outside, the city stretched out beneath a dim sky that threatened rain. The streets hummed with life—honking taxis, chatter from early risers, the smell of frying tortillas drifting through cracked windows. It was a world moving on as if nothing was about to change. But Valentina knew better. Everything was about to burn.
Carmen's words echoed in her head, steady and sharp like a knife-edge. "This isn't just about revenge, niña. It's about survival—yours and everyone who's been crushed under Herrera's boot. Mateo isn't charity. He's a storm. You need to decide if you're ready to dance in the rain."
Valentina nodded slowly, her jaw clenched. "I'm ready."
The mechanic shop in the Doctores neighborhood looked like a relic from another world. Rusting signs hung crookedly, and a single flickering neon light barely illuminated the cracked concrete steps leading up to the door. The faint scent of burning oil and metal mixed with the dampness in the air, creating a smell that was somehow familiar, somehow harsh.
She pushed open the heavy door, and the chime of a bell broke the muffled sounds of the city outside.
Mateo stood behind the counter immediately—a hulking figure with weathered skin and eyes like twin storms, sharp and unrelenting. His hands were stained with grease, the kind of stains that didn't wash off easily. He wiped them on an old rag, then met her gaze with an intensity that made Valentina's pulse quicken.
"You must be Valentina," he said, voice low and gravelly.
She swallowed her fear, standing tall despite the sinking feeling in her gut. "Carmen sent me."
Mateo's lips twitched—almost a smile, or maybe a warning. "Good. Sit."
She took the metal chair he pointed to, every muscle taut like a drawn bowstring. The workshop was cramped and cluttered, tools lining the walls, old radios and cracked windshields scattered in corners. The hum of a flickering overhead light was the only sound besides the soft crackle of an old vinyl spinning something deep and haunting in the background.
"Why are you here?" Mateo asked, folding his arms across his chest, towering over her.
"To learn how to fight. How to survive."
He studied her face for a long moment, searching for signs of doubt, weakness, anything that might make him send her away. But all he saw was a fire—a desperate kind of determination.
"You think this is a school? A place for training? You're about to step into a world where the rules are made by the strongest, where mercy is a weakness, and trust is a currency you spend once—if you're lucky."
Valentina's heart pounded, but she didn't flinch. "I don't have a choice."
Mateo's eyes flickered with something—respect? Sadness?—before he nodded slowly. "Fair enough."
He reached under the counter and pulled out a small pistol, sliding it across the table. It looked like a relic, scratched and worn, but deadly just the same.
"First lesson: this is your friend. But also your responsibility. You'll need to know it inside out, every click, every safety. Because one mistake and it's not just your life on the line—it's everyone you care about."
Valentina's fingers trembled as she picked it up, feeling the cold metal against her skin. It was foreign and terrifying, but strangely powerful.
Mateo didn't let her relax. "We'll start with basics: how to hold it, how to aim, how to breathe steady enough that you don't flinch when it goes off. And after that, we move to the streets."
He pulled out a worn leather notebook, its pages yellowed and edges curled. "This book? It's everything you need to know about survival. Who's a friend, who's a traitor, who's just waiting to stab you in the back. You'll learn how to move unseen, how to disappear when the walls close in. And most importantly… how to strike without becoming the monster you're hunting."
Valentina's throat tightened. Not becoming what you hate. Could she really hold on to that?
Mateo's voice was sharp, breaking the moment. "I'm not here to coddle you. You'll get hurt. You'll bleed. But if you survive, you'll be more dangerous than any man with a gun."
Days bled into nights, and Valentina's world shifted beneath her. The pistol became less foreign, an extension of her own body. Mateo was a tough teacher—never soft, always pushing her limits.
She learned how to read the city's pulse—the gangs that ran certain blocks, the crooked cops who looked the other way, the informants who whispered secrets for the right price. She discovered the small hiding places, the safe routes, the places where shadows were friends.
But more than that, she learned about herself.
In the cold sweat of the nights, when doubt clawed at her mind, she remembered her family—gone because she wasn't ready. That memory burned hotter than any pain.
Meanwhile, high above the city in his glass fortress, Xavier Herrera paced like a caged beast. Every inch of his penthouse screamed power, but none of it could quiet the storm inside him.
"The Cruz girl is still out there," he growled into his phone, voice tight with fury. "Find her. No mistakes. No delays."
He slammed the receiver down, jaw clenched. This ends soon. One way or another.
Back on the streets, Valentina stepped out of the workshop, the pistol heavy in her bag, the weight of a new life heavy on her shoulders. The girl who once dreamed of justice was gone.
Now, there was only the woman who would burn the world down to avenge her family.