The conference room of Navarro Corporation wasn't built for comfort, it was built for control.
Dark marble table. Twelve leather chairs. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city below, its skyline glittering like a kingdom under Rafael's command.
The men gathered around the table weren't ordinary businessmen, they were soldiers in suits. Men who had carved their way through the underworld to earn a seat here.
Rafael sat at the head of the table, silent, cigarette burning slow between his fingers. He rarely ever smoked them,just liked the sight of it burning. His suit was black, immaculate as always, a faint glint of silver at his watch. He didn't need to speak to own the room. His silence was its own language and everyone knew better than to interrupt it.
Caleb sat to his right, arms crossed, eyes scanning the men seated around them. "Begin," he said curtly.
The first to speak was Mateo Cruz, a broad, scarred man who managed the Pacific routes. His voice carried a rough edge, the kind earned from years of violence.
"Señor Navarro," he began, "our shipment through Mazatlán reached the port yesterday. The customs officers were paid off as planned. No delays."
Rafael's gaze didn't shift. "And the cargo?"
"Secure. Half was delivered to the buyers in Culiacán. The rest heads north tonight. We've got new contacts in Usa who want to double their usual order. I told them we'd confirm after your approval."
"Good." Rafael nodded once. "Keep the USA deal contained. No expansion until I say so."
Mateo bowed his head slightly. "Sí, señor."
Next, a younger man, Julian Vega, one of Rafael's field coordinators leaned forward. He was always too eager to please. "Our men in Guatemala handled the shipment of cash cleanly. The banks in Belize processed everything. But… there's been a complication with the Panamanian accounts. Some movement was flagged by the financial watchdog."
Rafael's jaw twitched, the faintest sign of irritation. "Flagged?"
Julian swallowed. "A small one, Señor. They traced a transaction linked to one of our shell companies. It's nothing serious, just a notice. We're already moving the funds to new accounts through Zurich."
Rafael's eyes narrowed, the silence that followed sharper than any outburst. "Next time, it won't be 'nothing serious.' If the government starts sniffing around, too much,we'll burn the whole network and rebuild it from ashes. Understood?"
Julian nodded quickly, face pale. "Understood, Señor."
Across the table, another man, Tomas Herrera, head of weapons distribution cleared his throat. "About the rifles from the Asian deal," he said. "Our sources confirmed Cassimo and Valdez both tried to intercept the last batch. But we beat them to it."
Rafael's gaze lifted, faintly intrigued. "Valdez?"
Tomas nodded. "Yes, Señor. Armando Valdez. Runs his operation out of Medellín. He's been trying to step into Cassimo's shadow. The word is, he's striking deals with ex-military suppliers, heavy ones. Drones, ballistic vests, next-gen rifles. He offered twenty percent above market to the same Asian contact."
"And yet," Rafael said quietly, "we still got the shipment."
"Yes, Señor," Tomas said, smiling faintly. "Because we moved faster. The Asians like your reliability. Money and fear travel further than promises."
That earned the faintest curve of a smile from Rafael, gone almost as soon as it appeared.
Then Caleb spoke. "About the new territory in Monterrey," he said, leaning forward with a folder in hand. "We secured distribution channels in two of the three zones. The third is still under Cassimo's influence, but we're negotiating with his suppliers. Within two weeks, the entire route will be ours."
Rafael tapped ash into the tray beside him, his expression unreadable. "You said the same two weeks ago."
Caleb didn't flinch. "And we're closer now than before. Cassimo's people are getting nervous. They're losing shipments, losing trust. It's only a matter of time before the last one folds."
Rafael leaned back in his chair, smoke curling from his cigarette. "Time," he repeated softly. "You think I have time to wait for Cassimo to collapse?"
Caleb's jaw tightened. "It's better to make him starve than to shoot him outright. Quietly. Efficiently."
Rafael's eyes, dark and cold, fixed on him. "You're starting to think like a businessman, Caleb. But this isn't business. It's war. And in war, hesitation costs more than bullets."
The room went dead silent.
Rafael crushed the cigarette into the ashtray and stood, the scrape of his chair echoing. "I don't care how it happens," he said quietly, "but Cassimo and Valdez both fall. I want Cassimo's men too afraid to whisper my name. And I want Valdez's next shipment sunk before it touches Mexican soil."
He turned his gaze to Caleb, voice dropping lower. "You'll handle that. Personally."
Caleb's expression didn't change, but there was a flicker,something between pride and tension. "Understood, Rafael."
Rafael walked toward the window, hands in his pockets, staring out over the skyline that was his to command. "We built everything from scratch,we don't compete," he said softly. "We consume. Anyone who forgets that…"
He glanced back, eyes like a loaded gun. "…dies."
No one dared to move until he left the room.
Only when the door shut behind him did Caleb finally exhale. "Get me everything on Valdez," he muttered to Tomas. "If Rafael wants blood, he'll get it."
And as they gathered their files and whispered in low tones, Rafael's presence lingered in the room,a man who ruled the city like a god but stood utterly alone.