It started with a bang—literally.
A warehouse in Quilmes exploded at 2:14 a.m.
Flames licked the skyline, and black smoke choked the stars. The police called it a gas leak. The news said it was an accident. But Valentina knew better.
That warehouse stored one of Herrera's largest shipments of Oro Negro.
And she was the one who lit the fuse.
The next morning, Valentina stood in front of a rusted chalkboard in an abandoned convent outside Buenos Aires. She'd repurposed the old place as her new war room. The saints on the walls watched in silence as rebels scribbled notes and studied maps.
Mateo walked in carrying coffee and scars.
"More soldiers joined last night," he said, handing her a mug. "Former military. Two ex-cops. A nurse who smuggled poison out of a cartel lab."
Valentina nodded. "We don't need saints. We need believers."
She turned to the crowd.
"I won't ask you to die for me. But I will ask you to fight for those who can't fight for themselves. For every village poisoned. For every child lost to a silent war."
A quiet hum of agreement spread across the room.
Then Paloma entered.
Everyone tensed.
She raised both hands. "Relax. I'm not here to fight."
Mateo stepped in front of Valentina. "You have a funny way of making peace. What do you want?"
Paloma smirked. "A common enemy makes for strange bedfellows, no?"
Valentina stepped forward. "Why the sudden change?"
"I know Herrera better than anyone. And I know when a ship is sinking."
Valentina eyed her carefully. "Prove it."
Paloma slid a drive across the table. "Blueprints. Security codes. Entry points to his main lab—deep in Patagonia. You burn that, you burn his crown."
Valentina pocketed the drive. "If you betray me..."
"I'd deserve whatever hell you put me in," Paloma said, for once without a smirk.
That night, Valentina walked alone through the convent courtyard. She lit a candle under a statue of Saint Jude—patron of lost causes.
Her father's ghost echoed in her mind. So did every death she'd seen, every child's empty gaze, every whispered lie.
She wasn't just a woman now.
She was a weapon.
Inside, Mateo, Paloma, and Elías gathered around a table of explosives, blueprints, and radio equipment.
Elías leaned in. "We hit the lab in four days. In and out. Quick, loud, and final."
Paloma nodded. "One shot. No mistakes."
Mateo looked at the map, then at Valentina who stood at the window watching the stars.
"She's ready," he said.
"She has to be," Paloma replied. "Because after this, there's no turning back."