Roland's voice laced with concern. "Boss, let me come with you. It's not safe."
Cisco reassured him, "Chill, Roland. I need to do this alone. Tristan and I have unfinished business."
Roland's eyes narrowed. "But, sir, Tristan is ruthless. What if—"
Cisco's firm tone cut him off. "I'll handle it. Wait here."
Roland reluctantly parked outside the Martinez mansion.
Cisco stepped out, adjusting his suit. At 40, he looked younger than his years, thanks to his meticulous self-care. His slender, 6'2" frame exuded confidence.
As he entered the mansion, guards froze, eyes wide.
"What are you doing here?" one stuttered.
Cisco smiled, hands in pockets. "I want to see Tristan."
The guard's voice trembled. "You can't be here."
Cisco's gaze turned icy. "Take me to Tristan. Now."
The guards exchanged nervous glances before ushering Cisco to Tristan's office.
