With scorn, Enrique watched Jack walk away from him. A breath escaped his heavy-set frame as a soldier neared.
“What do you want us to do with the prisoners, sir?”
Enrique cast a glance over at the hulking man dressed in military garb and wielding a large assault rifle. “Shoot them,” he said.
The soldier hesitated momentarily but ultimately nodded and moved away.
Two soldiers were dragging a prisoner when Fernando stepped alongside Enrique. The prisoner was made to drop to his knees in front of the cartel boss. The heavy-set fellow was a man with a thick mustache and a designer silk shirt, now torn open and covered in blood. There was dirt on his face, as well as blood. When the man’s eyes met those of the cartel boss, Enrique smiled back.
“Why?” the man screamed.
“Why what, Romero?
