Betrayed & Sold: Rise Of A Cartel Queen

“You have the touch, mija,” Carlos said, as he watched his daughter Lola, working amongst the blue-green agave plants, her hands moving with practiced ease.

Pride swelled in his chest, although it came with a familiar worry.

“Just like your Mama,” he added. “The Lord bless her soul. The land speaks to you, doesn’t it?”

He saw so much of his late wife in Lola, especially in her connection to their heritage. Something he feared his son, Diego, would never understand.

Lola looked up, her face smudged with dirt. Her clear blue eyes reflecting the azure sky always reminded Carlos of her mother.

She quickly nodded. “It does, Papa. It always has.”

It was another sunny day at the Volcans’ large agave fields in the foothills of Sinaloa and Lola loved being here. Her hands dirty from tending the agave roots, feeling this connection with the lands that belonged to her family for generations.

She was still the beloved princess of Sinaloa, a title she wore with pride. Although, now at 21, Lola often felt more like a wildflower than sheltered royalty.

For Lola, her Papa was her family, the steadfast center of her world since her mother passed; his laughter, his guidance, his presence were her anchors.

He stood beside her, his face weathered by sun and age but still undeniably handsome.

They were so close, one could say their bond was as deep and rooted as the ancient agave plants themselves. She had always tagged along learning the farm business, nurturing her love for their legacy.

Very much unlike her brother Diego, who seemed only interested in hanging out with their uncle Matías, some spoiled second-generation heirs or big ballers. Recklessly spending money on chicas and clubs.

Carlos sighed inwardly whenever he thought of Diego. The boy was easily led, a constant source of worry, especially with Matías whispering God knows what in his ear.

Lola found joy in tending the land, understanding the delicate balance between nurturing and harvesting. She knew the exact time when the agave was ready. Recognizing the slight shift in its color, the subtle give of its fleshy leaves under pressure.

“Look at this one!” Lola held up a particularly large agave plant. “This will surely make the finest tequila” she smiled excitedly.

“Yes! One day, mija, this land will be yours,” Carlos said, as he looked across the vast fields stretching towards the mountains.

His expression held pride, but also a hint of something deeper, that made Lola’s heart feel a little uneasy.

“Promise me that you’ll protect it.”

“From what, Papa?” Lola asked. “The only danger here is your terrible jokes.” She laughed mischievously, trying to bring back the warmth to his face.

Carlos chuckled, though the worry was still around his eyes. “Life has a way of throwing us curveballs, mija. Just promise me.”

“I promise, Papa,” Lola replied immediately, her voice filled with fierce, filial piety. She loved this farm, protecting it felt as natural as breathing.

He patted her shoulder gently. “You’ll see, Lolita. The world is not as kind as these fields. You must be strong like the agave. It thrives even in the harshest weather.” You will need that strength soon, my brave girl.

Carlos reached into his inner pocket and brought out a small, intricate pendant. It was a silver necklace holding a very detailed, beautifully crafted agave blossom.

“For your mayoría de edad económica.”

The financial coming of age.

“Turn, mija,” he instructed softly, fastening the cool silver chain around her neck. It felt like settling a mantle on her shoulders. “Next week you will be turning 21, old enough to own the fields under your mother’s will. The company will pass to you… if you’re ready.”

‘And if I can ensure Matías respects Elena’s wishes,’ he added silently, a task proving harder than he’d anticipated.

His thumb brushed the engraving on the back of the pendant: LV21. “Wear this, and the land will know its true queen.”

‘I am as ready as any 21-year-old can be to inherit an empire,’ Lola thought with a surge of determination, ‘and I have put in a lot of work to be prepared.’ Her recent diploma in Viticulture and Enology from Tuscany felt like proof of her commitment.

“In just over 2 months of being the manager for the Exports department, you have already brought in 2 international orders in the millions through your contacts in Europe. You can do this, mija,” Papa reassured her, genuine pride shining in his eyes.

“Yes, Papa,” Lola agreed readily, wondering why he kept emphasizing on it. “and of course, you will be here to guide me in every step.”

The pendant felt cool against her skin, it felt like a silent promise between them, strengthening her resolve.

“It’s beautiful, Papa. Muchas gracias,” she said, kissing his cheek as she hugged him tightly, cherishing the moment.

Unfortunately, this precious moment of peace was shattered by the noisy rumble of an approaching vehicle. A luxurious, black SUV sped down the dirt farm road, trailing a plume of dust. It stopped abruptly near them, its polished body shining in the sunlight.

Lola’s heart skipped a beat. The vehicle was obviously not one of theirs. Her family preferred the reliable, if somewhat battered, Toyota trucks.

She recognized this type of expensive SUV. A chill traced its way down her spine. Why is one here in the farm?

Matías came out of the SUV looking tensed which confirmed Lola’s unease.

He was not a man of many words and looked like the lower version of Carlos. The receding hairline, shorter height and greasy look setting him apart.

His presence always gave Lola a sense of discomfort. Matías ignored Lola, his focus entirely on his brother. ‘Time is running out,’ he thought.

“Carlos,” Matías said, his voice low and urgent, “we need to talk. Now.”

Carlos smile vanished instantly, replaced by a cold gaze. He knew this tone, Matías only brought trouble. “What is going on, Matías?”

Matías glanced dismissively at Lola, looking over her with barely concealed annoyance. He didn’t want the girl involved. “This is for your ears only, Carlos.”

A knot tightened in Lola’s stomach. She had never been excluded from Papa’s affairs before; Matías’s sudden secrecy felt  suspicious and threatening.

“Go and check the distillery, Lola,” Papa said, his voice firm but gentle, a clear attempt to shield her. “Make sure the fermentation has started and that everything is running smoothly.” His eyes pleaded silently with her to obey without question.

‘Fine!’ Lola thought, frustrated but seeing the seriousness in her father’s eyes. As she reluctantly turned away, her gaze stayed on Papa’s face. She saw a flicker of something, deep worry or perhaps even fear . ‘What aren’t they telling me?’

As Lola walked towards the distillery, the men’s voices faded behind her, replaced by the familiar sounds of the machinery ahead.

But her mind was far from easy; she kept replaying the scene, trying desperately to understand what they were hiding.

The distillery was a large factory building, filled with the earthy aroma of fermenting agave, bustling with its usual afternoon activity. Workers moved with practiced efficiency, their hands guiding the ancient process that transformed the humble plant into the prized tequila carrying the Volcan name.

Aunt Delores and some workers greeted her near the entrance, she was lost in thought. Delores noticed Lola’s troubled look but kept her thoughts to herself.

By the time Lola came out from the distillery, it was evening. She needed to know what’s up.

But as she neared the study wing, Lola felt a strange premonition wash over her. The study door, usually left slightly ajar, was now closed. Muffled, but distinctly raised voices carried from inside. An argument?

Lola crept closer, pressing her ear against the thick wooden door, straining to hear.

“The Cali Cartel knows,” Matías’s voice hissed, sharp and urgent. “They want payment.”

Lola’s heart leaped into her throat. The Cali Cartel? The name alone was whispered with fear throughout Sinaloa. A ruthless force whose power stretched across Mexico. What could they possibly want with Papa?

“I’ll find a way,” Papa’s voice answered, but it lacked its usual strength; it sounded thin, almost desperate. “I always do.”

“There is no way, Carlos!” Matías’s voice rose, laced with undisguised panic. “They want what they’re owed, and they won’t wait any longer!”

Suddenly, Lola heard heavy footsteps coming towards the study. She immediately dashed into the dark side corridor, sneaking away.

Her escape was suddenly cut short by a sharp, deafening CRACK. A gunshot.

Lola froze, her blood running cold. She quickly took cover behind a large potted fern waiting for whatever danger it was to pass.

Suddenly the realization hit her, the sound had come from the study.

She ran back as fast as she could, pushing through the now slightly open door. Her eyes widened in horror at the scene inside.

Papa was slumped in his heavy leather chair, his head bending to the side. A dark, wet stain was spreading fast across the front of his favorite linen shirt. His eyes that was just filled with warmth and laughter,  were now cold, blinking sightlessly.

Lola screamed, a heart wrenching sound of grief and shock. She rushed to Papa’s side, her hands shaking as she touched his cooling face.

“Papa!” she cried, her voice choked with sobs, tears streaming down her face. “Papa, don’t leave me, nooo!”

His lips moved slightly trying to speak his last words but they were barely a whisper. “Trust… no one.”

His fingers dangled against the open ledger on his desk, smearing the fresh ink where he had written – Lola’s 21st: Secure trust fund before Mati… Blood began to pool around the simple gold wedding band on his finger, the one he’d sworn never to remove.

“Papi…” Lola sobbed brokenly, pressing his unresponsive hand against the new pendant at her neck. “You promised… you promised to sign the papers with me…”

She clutched her pendant so tightly the delicate silver petals dug painfully into her palm. Matías and Diego appeared in the doorway, their faces looking cold without any emotion.

The world around Lola seemed to shift and spin. The reality crashing down on her, threatening to shatter her completely.

Her father, her anchor, her world… gone, just like that.

And the chilling emptiness on the faces of her uncle and brother… offered no comfort at all.