Isabella Rodrigo sat in her grand office overlooking the vast skyline of Mexico City, her fingers tapping rhythmically on the mahogany desk. Her phone was already dialing Tyrone's number as she glanced at the financial reports stacked beside her. The numbers were solid, and the cartel she represented was eagerly awaiting their share of the profits from the coke sales. Still, there was a lingering unease in her mind. Tyrone had been unusually quiet ever since their deal was finalized, and the lack of communication wasn't sitting well with her.
The phone rang once, twice, three times. She expected Tyrone's voice to answer, but instead, it was his second-in-command who picked up. His voice, cold and professional, echoed through the line, "Tyrone is unavailable at the moment. How can I assist you?"
Isabella raised an eyebrow, her instincts immediately telling her something was off. She leaned back in her chair, playing it cool. "I wasn't aware Tyrone had someone else handling his phone calls now," she said smoothly, but there was an underlying edge to her tone. "I was hoping to speak with him directly regarding the coke sales. After all, we've got an entire operation riding on those numbers."
The second-in-command's response was calm, almost mechanical. "Tyrone has entrusted me to handle the day-to-day affairs while he's occupied. The shipments are moving as expected. The first batch of 20 tons is already distributed. In three days, you'll receive your share—$50 million, as promised."
Isabella felt a flicker of surprise. The speed at which Tyrone's organization had generated such massive profits was impressive, to say the least. She'd known Tyrone was ambitious, but this level of efficiency exceeded even her expectations. Still, she wasn't the type to be easily satisfied, especially when she wasn't in direct contact with the man pulling the strings.
"Fifty million in the first month," Isabella repeated slowly, the words rolling off her tongue as she mulled over the implications. "Not bad. You've certainly exceeded expectations. But where exactly is Tyrone? I find it odd that he's so... unavailable during a critical time like this. Surely, you understand that I prefer dealing directly with my business partners."
The second-in-command remained unshaken. "Tyrone is handling matters abroad. He'll be back soon enough, and until then, I'll be your point of contact for anything related to the coke sales or any other operations."
Isabella's eyes narrowed slightly. This man was gatekeeping, keeping her in the dark about Tyrone's whereabouts, and that wasn't something she was used to. As one of the most powerful figures in the Rodrigo cartel, she demanded answers when she asked for them. However, she was pragmatic, and if there was one thing Isabella Rodrigo knew, it was how to read between the lines.
For now, the business was running smoothly. The money was flowing in, and as long as the profits kept climbing, she wouldn't press too hard. But she made a mental note to keep a close eye on Tyrone's organization. The sudden absence of its leader at such a pivotal time was worth paying attention to, even if the operation was thriving.
"Alright," Isabella finally said, her voice calm but laced with subtle authority. "Fifty million in three days. I'll be expecting it." She paused, letting the silence hang for a moment before adding, "But make sure Tyrone knows that I prefer direct communication moving forward. We have much more to discuss, and I don't appreciate being kept in the dark."
The second-in-command's response was as professional as ever. "Understood. Tyrone will be informed."
Isabella hung up the phone, a satisfied smirk playing on her lips. While she may not have gotten the answers she wanted, the numbers didn't lie. Tyrone's organization was proving to be a lucrative ally, and with profits like these, she had no regrets about working with them. For now, she would bide her time and wait for Tyrone to resurface. When he did, they would have a more serious conversation about their future dealings—and she would make sure she was the one holding the cards.
Reggie stormed into the dimly lit office of the money stash warehouse, his face twisted with fury. His crew followed closely behind, their expressions tense, as if bracing for what was about to unfold. The air was thick with the scent of cash being counted by machines in the background, but Reggie's focus was locked on the lieutenant sitting behind a large desk piled with ledgers and stacks of money.
The lieutenant looked up, calm and unbothered, but Reggie's eyes were blazing. He slammed his fist on the desk, rattling everything on it. "You think I'm just gonna sit by and let this happen?" Reggie growled, leaning in close. "Snake, that punk from Detroit, is getting supplied. Supplied! And you're just sitting here like it's all good? Where's Tyrone? He needs to explain this."
The lieutenant leaned back in his chair, his hands clasped together, maintaining his composure despite the storm in front of him. "It's business, Reggie," he said evenly, his voice calm yet authoritative. "Nothing personal. Snake's operation brings in money, and money is what matters. Tyrone's strategy is to expand. Detroit is part of that. You shouldn't take it personally."
Reggie's eyes flashed with anger as he straightened up, pacing the room like a caged animal. "Not personal?" he repeated, incredulous. "You think I don't know what Snake's been trying to do in Detroit? That rat's been undermining me for years. I built everything there from the ground up, and now you're giving him a handout, supplying him with product like it's nothing?" He paused, his hand going to the gun tucked at his waist. His voice lowered, turning venomous. "If this is business, then why am I getting cut out?"
The lieutenant remained unflinching, though his eyes flickered briefly to Reggie's hand. "Nobody's cutting you out. Your share's coming in just like always. Tyrone's diversifying. Expanding. It's not about taking anything away from you. It's about growing. You know how Tyrone thinks—he's playing the long game."
Reggie stopped pacing and turned, his eyes narrowing. "Yeah, I know how he thinks. But I ain't seen him around lately, have I? Where is he? He's the real authority around here. If anyone's gonna tell me what the hell's going on, it's him."
The lieutenant shifted slightly, though his calm demeanor never wavered. "Tyrone's busy handling things abroad," he said, almost dismissively. "He's not available right now. But when he's back, you'll get your face-to-face. Until then, the decisions have already been made."
Reggie's jaw clenched, his patience thinning. "Gatekeeping, huh?" he spat, his voice dripping with frustration. "You're gonna stand there and tell me to wait like some chump? Nah, that ain't how this is gonna go. Either I get some real answers, or you and Tyrone can both deal with a whole new problem."
The lieutenant's eyes hardened at the threat, but he still didn't lose his cool. "Careful, Reggie," he said, his voice now colder. "Tyrone's got plans. Big ones. You're a part of those plans, but pushing too hard might get you left out entirely. You don't want that, and neither do I. This is business, not a street squabble. You've been in the game long enough to know when to be patient."
Reggie stared him down, tension crackling in the air. His crew was standing by, waiting for his next move, eyes darting between him and the lieutenant. For a moment, it looked like Reggie was about to snap, his hand inching closer to his gun.
But then he exhaled sharply, backing off just a little. "Fine. I'll wait," he muttered, though the venom in his voice remained. "But you tell Tyrone that when he's back, I'm coming for a face-to-face. If this Snake deal blows back on me, there's gonna be hell to pay."
The lieutenant nodded. "I'll pass along the message. But trust me, when Tyrone gets back, things will be clearer. He hasn't forgotten you."
Reggie turned and stormed out of the office, his crew following behind him. The tension was still thick, but for now, Reggie would wait—barely. The room, once filled with the sound of counting machines, was left in an uneasy silence as the lieutenant returned to his ledgers. He knew Reggie was a hothead, and this situation with Snake was only going to get worse before it got better.