Chapter 307
2-IN-1 chapter
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In the Salamanca Cartel estate on the outskirts of Tijuana—
Slap—
A fine porcelain coffee cup shattered into pieces as it struck the spotless wooden floor.
Héctor's fingers trembled, his face overtaken by a storm of conflicting emotions—shock, fury, suspicion… and beneath it all, deeply buried fear and dread.
When he heard the report from his men that several logistics warehouses under Shǎnshǎn Storage had been destroyed, rage surged through him.
At the same time, he was forced to confront a fact he had suspected but didn't want to admit:
The people who had repeatedly disrupted his plans for revenge were no longer fleeing from his pursuit—they had returned, guns drawn.
It was clear they had also realized: it was either them or him.
"Héctor, sir?"
The subordinate reporting to him trembled with unease, terrified of accidentally provoking the wrath of the boss.
But to his surprise, Héctor simply waved his hand. "I understand."
The subordinate froze.
That's it?
Just "I understand"?
Héctor's unusually calm reaction left him both relieved and confused.
He had been sure he was dead meat—that there was no way he'd escape unscathed. If he hadn't been forced to be here by his boss, he would have been willing to pay another guy to be the messenger.
But Héctor hadn't flown into a rage or lashed out. He was calm. Too calm.
Realizing the subordinate was still standing in front of him waiting for instructions, Héctor gestured. "You may go."
The man bowed quickly and bolted from the office like he'd been granted a royal pardon—afraid that even one second of delay might land him in a lion's cage.
Once the door closed, Héctor returned to his desk, opened a drawer, and retrieved a small deep-orange pill bottle.
He popped the cap, shook out several tablets, and threw them into his mouth—dry, without water.
After taking the meds, his complexion slightly improved, although the drug likely hadn't even taken effect yet and it was simply a placebo.
He slowly settled into his executive chair and lit a cigarette. Smoke curled into the air.
"Shǎnshǎn's logistics warehouse isn't the end—it's just the beginning. If we let them continue, the Salamanca Cartel's operations will suffer massive losses."
"Even if I could ignore that, the rest of the organization can't. Everyone's got mouths to feed."
"I've already rooted out the opposition, but if payroll stops, even those who helped me purge them will turn against me."
"At the end of the day, the Salamanca Cartel is still just a well-dressed criminal syndicate."
Héctor took a deep drag, the ember of the cigarette pulsing. He let the smoke sit in his lungs for a long time before exhaling in a raspy cough.
"The enemy is strong—without a doubt, they're professionals. Mercenaries, or private military contractors. Sending common thugs to secure the rest of our assets would be useless. The only ones who matter are the 300 gunners stationed at the estate."
"But this must be their goal. They're betting I'll pull those gunners from the estate, weakening its defense. If I do that, I walk right into their trap."
"I can't let that happen. I can't die. Not now."
Héctor clutched his hair in frustration.
It took a while before he finally lowered his hands.
He had a plan.
Héctor picked up his phone and dialed a number.
When the call connected, a hoarse voice answered from the other end.
"Señor Héctor. It's been a while. How have you been?"
But Héctor wasn't in the mood for pleasantries.
He went straight to the point. "Colonel, I have a problem. I need your help."
"Say the word, Señor Héctor."
"I need you to immediately deploy troops into Tijuana and impose martial law in several districts."
"By several districts… do you mean Salamanca Cartel territory?"
That the colonel could guess so easily didn't surprise Héctor at all.
The man had his own intelligence network—even within the Salamanca Cartel itself, Héctor knew there were spies planted by him.
Of course, Héctor also had his own informants inside the military.
"Yes."
Hector admitted it.
He needed help now. The Salamanca Cartel was weaker than ever.
So, lowering his posture slightly—he considered it acceptable.
What he hadn't expected was that the colonel, who had been fed and fattened by the Salamanca Cartel all this time, would choose this moment to name conditions.
"So what can you offer me?"
Hector gripped the phone harder. His fingers turned white from the pressure.
Suppressing his anger, he replied, "Offer? Colonel, let's be clear here—you're not the only one suffering. I'm not the only one taking losses. If I take too big a hit, I won't be able to help you funnel those green euros into your Swiss bank account."
The colonel's voice cooled. "Is that a threat?"
"A threat? No, Colonel, you've misunderstood. I'm merely stating a fact. How long have we known each other? Five years? Ten? I've lost count. Even if we put profit aside, as old friends, I think you should at least give me a hand."
Hector wasn't naïve. Even someone as idealistic as Jefferson Peralez would use necessary means when the situation called for it.
Let alone Hector—who was never an idealist to begin with.
The meaning behind his words was simple: helping him was helping oneself. The Salamanca Cartel's rise and fall was tied to the colonel's personal fortune. If the cartel collapsed, the colonel's stable income would vanish with it.
The colonel understood the subtext perfectly.
But his greed exceeded Hector's expectations—he clearly intended to use this moment to extort benefits.
"Don't talk to me about friendship. Talking about friendship costs money. You want my help, tell me—how much are you offering? I've got time to spare. I can wait. You? Not so much."
Hector finally realized that unless he offered something tangible, the colonel wouldn't budge. Cursing in his heart, he reluctantly said:
"Two weeks. I only need the military to protect the Salamanca Cartel's assets for two weeks. I'll pay you twenty million euros."
Hector thought the offer was reasonable—but the other side responded, "I don't want cash. I want shares. I want annual dividends from the cartel."
"Impossible!" Hector sprang up from his chair, forehead veins bulging.
"There's nothing impossible about it. You're the one asking for help, not me."
"Colonel, must it come to this? There's no need to go that far, is there?"
"Hector, I've killed a lot of people in my life. You know what their last words usually are? 'There's no need to go that far.'"
Hector fell silent.
This was a threat—a naked one.
And it was clear the colonel believed Hector had no choice but to agree.
Because if Hector didn't, he'd be finished—and the Salamanca Cartel would implode.
But the colonel had the military. No matter who became the next King of Tijuana, he would still be a colonel.
Forcing down his revulsion, Hector said, "I can give you ten percent annually."
"Ten's too little. Forty sounds fairer."
"That's insane! Do you even understand what forty percent means?"
"I understand it perfectly. I also understand that if you had any other choice, you wouldn't have come to me."
Hector's expression darkened completely.
Anyone who knew him would recognize that look—it was the one he wore before feeding someone to the lions.
"Fifteen percent. No more. If I go down, you may still be a colonel, but the next cartel might not be as generous."
"Twenty. I've already got my men ready. If you agree now, I'll send them into Tijuana immediately. And after this is over, I'll leave some behind to keep protecting your assets. After all, now that I've got a stake in it, I don't want to lose out."
"…Fine. Twenty percent. Deal."
After ending the call, Hector cursed furiously.
"That greedy swine dares make demands? Doesn't he realize without the Salamanca Cartel, he'd be nothing? Nothing!!"
"That ungrateful dog… once this blows over, I'll hint to his subordinates to replace him. Those officers of his have long wanted to take his position anyway."
He cursed for a while, then finally calmed down. Breathing heavily, he took a sip of water and sat back down. Then he dialed another number.
"Mr. Hans from Pacifica? This is Hector Salamanca—yes, that Hector Salamanca from the Salamanca Cartel. I have a job. I need a few people to get something done."
"I know you intermediaries like hiring street trash to do your jobs. But this task cannot fail. So I don't want mercs."
"I've heard that in Night City, the Animals are the best crew for this kind of work. Find me some of their best. Money's no issue. There'll be a generous reward when it's done."
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On the outskirts of Tijuana, near the Salamanca Cartel's estate.
Several hundred meters away, a vehicle sat parked.
Inside were Leo and V.
Lucy wasn't with them—it was just the two of them inside the car.
At the moment, they were eating tacos while watching the estate.
After raiding the fake fried chicken logistics warehouse, they'd driven straight here.
Lucy had gotten out halfway, taking a taxi to another Salamanca property—not to sabotage it, but to conduct separate reconnaissance.
V handed over a bottle of water. "Want some?"
"Thanks."
Leo was feeling a bit thirsty. He placed his taco on his lap, took the water, drank a few mouthfuls, then sealed the cap again—just in case anything happened, so he wouldn't be caught unprepared.
"No sign of movement from the guards inside the estate. Could Hector not have received the news yet?"
"Doubt it. If the Salamanca Cartel moved this slow, they would've been swallowed by another group long ago."
At that moment, Lucy's voice came over the comm channel.
"Leo, can you hear me?"
Leo froze and instinctively set the taco aside, his right hand moving to the kinetic pistol at his side.
"Reading you. Go ahead."
"The Salamanca property has new protection."
"What? But I don't see any of the estate's guards mobilizing."
"It's not the cartel's men… it's the military. Troops have entered the city."
V sounded stunned. "The military?"
Lucy's voice came through heavy with guilt.
"All of this is my fault. The cartel's influence in Mexico is enormous. I should've realized sooner—they even have the military in their pocket."
Leo spoke to comfort him.
"This isn't your responsibility. You don't need to feel guilty. Let's do this—first we regroup somewhere safe, then we'll figure out our next steps."
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