One year later.
Seville, Spain.
Rain fell over the Andalusia countryside in a light drizzle.
Beyond the distant glow of the city, an enormous estate sat behind layers of security. High walls surrounded the mansion. Cameras watched every entrance. Armed guards patrolled the grounds at carefully timed intervals.
The mansion itself rose from the center of the compound. It sat atop a hill, looking more like a fortress than a home.
This was where Rafael Santos lived.
He was a renowned kingpin in the Spanish criminal underworld, involved in drug trafficking, illegal weapon's trade, extortion, and human smuggling.
Politicians owed him favors, law enforcement officers looked the other way for him, and judges were on his payroll. Even other criminal organizations paid him for protection.
But that was in the past.
Over the past few months, Rafael had almost been killed five times. He had a fallout with the Spanish Mafia and they've wanted him dead ever since.
