Becoming the cartel leader’s trophy

"Canela offered us to walk out with her, up for it?" Carla said as we pulled into the parking area of the arena, the massive building towering ahead of us, lights glowing against the night sky.

I could already hear the faint roar of the crowd even from outside—thousands of people packed inside, waiting for the fights to start.

I shifted slightly in my seat, thinking about it for a moment.

Walking out in front of all those people... cameras everywhere... phones recording...

"I think it's best we don't," I said finally, shaking my head a little. "People would start chatting."

I could already imagine it—clips online, people pausing frames, asking questions, digging into things that didn't need digging into. The internet never let anything stay quiet.

Carla stayed silent for a second, her fingers lightly tapping against the steering wheel as she looked out toward the arena entrance.

"You're right," she said at last.

There wasn't disappointment in her voice, just understanding.

The engine turned off, the low hum cutting out as the car settled into silence. Outside, people were already flooding toward the entrance, dressed up, excited, loud.

Carla adjusted her jacket slightly and glanced over at me.

"Let's just enjoy it like normal people," she added.

Normal.

I couldn't help but smile faintly at that as I reached for the door handle, stepping out into the cool night air with her.

"Ugh... I'm so dumb, should've brought a jacket," I muttered, my teeth chattering slightly as the cold night air hit harder than I expected. Vegas looked warm during the day, but at night it was a completely different story.

I rubbed my arms, trying to generate some warmth as I stepped closer to Carla.

"Dios mío..." she sighed, shaking her head as she looked me over. "I told you to grab your jacket before we left."

Her tone was stern, but there was that familiar care underneath it.

I nodded, feeling a little embarrassed.

"I didn't think it would be this cold," I admitted quietly.

Carla didn't say anything else. Instead, she immediately slipped off her own jacket and stepped closer, wrapping it around my shoulders without hesitation.

The warmth hit almost instantly.

It still carried her scent, faint but comforting, and I instinctively pulled it tighter around myself.

I looked up at her, a small smile forming despite the cold.

"Now you're gonna be cold," I said, my voice softer now.

Carla just shrugged like it didn't matter, her attention still focused on me rather than herself.

I grabbed her hand, grasping it tightly. She looked down at me with that smile of hers. 

We walked toward the main entrance of the arena, and my heart sank almost immediately.

A massive line stretched out in front of us—people packed shoulder to shoulder, slowly inching forward while security checked tickets one by one. The noise alone was overwhelming, conversations overlapping, occasional shouting, the distant echo of the crowd already inside.

I let out a quiet groan to myself.

This is gonna take forever...

"Don't worry..." Carla said calmly beside me.

Before I could even ask what she meant, she reached into her pocket and pulled out a sleek card. Without breaking stride, she approached one of the staff members standing near a side entrance and flashed it briefly.

The staff member's entire demeanor changed instantly.

They nodded without hesitation and stepped aside, opening the barrier for us.

"Right this way, ma'am."

Just like that.

No line. No waiting.

Carla walked through like it was nothing, a faint chuckle escaping her as she glanced back at me.

I followed quickly, still a bit stunned at how easy that was.

Inside, everything felt different.

The noise from outside dulled into a distant hum, replaced by a more controlled atmosphere. The floors were smooth grey marble, polished to the point where the overhead lights reflected cleanly off them. The space was wide, open, and noticeably less crowded—just a handful of well-dressed people moving through the interior halls.

It felt... exclusive.

I slowed my pace slightly, taking it all in as we walked deeper inside.

"Yeah... this is definitely not the regular entrance," I muttered under my breath, glancing around at the quiet luxury surrounding us.

"Let's get to our seats," Carla said, already moving forward like she knew exactly where she was going.

I nodded and followed close behind her, my eyes still wandering a bit as we walked through the quiet, polished halls. Every now and then we passed small stands selling drinks and snacks, the smell of popcorn and fried food lingering in the air.

For a second I considered grabbing something.

But I hesitated.

I've been eating like shit lately...

I let out a small breath and shook the thought off, deciding against it as I kept walking.

My hand moved down to my purse instead, opening it slightly as I checked inside.

Just to be sure.

My fingers brushed against the small canister almost immediately.

Pepper spray.

I exhaled quietly, closing the purse again once I confirmed it was there.

I wasn't going anywhere without it anymore.

Not after everything.

Carla glanced back briefly, noticing me lagging a step behind.

"You good?" she asked.

"Yeah," I said quickly, adjusting the strap on my shoulder as I caught up to her side again.

"Just checking something."

She nodded and kept walking, guiding us deeper into the arena toward where our seats were waiting, the distant roar of the crowd growing louder with every step.

"We're here just in time, next fight is the main event," Carla said as she pushed open the door.

The sound hit me immediately.

The roar of the crowd, loud and alive, echoing through the arena.

Inside, a set of stairs stretched downward toward the floor, leading straight to the boxing ring, which sat under bright, blinding lights in the center. The ring almost glowed against the darker crowd surrounding it, cameras flashing here and there as people settled into their seats.

My grip tightened around Carla's hand as we started descending.

"We got front row," she added casually.

Front row.

Of course we did.

Step by step, we made our way down, the noise getting louder the closer we got to the bottom. I could feel eyes on us as we passed—people glancing over, some whispering to each other.

And then there were the looks.

Women.

A few of them turned their heads as we walked by, their gazes lingering a little too long on me again. It made my shoulders tense slightly, that same uncomfortable feeling creeping back.

I instinctively held Carla's hand tighter.

Not just for comfort—but grounding.

She didn't say anything, but her grip tightened back just enough to let me know she noticed.

By the time we reached the bottom, the ring was right there in front of us, fighters' teams moving around the edges, commentators speaking into microphones, and the crowd buzzing with anticipation.

Carla led me to our seats—right at the front.

Close enough to see everything.

"So... how'd you get connected with Canela?" I asked as we finally reached the last stretch near the ring.

We moved along the side, slipping past a few people before settling into two open seats right at the front. From here, everything felt louder, sharper—the sound of gloves hitting, the crowd reacting to every exchange.

Carla leaned back slightly in her seat, eyes still on the ring.

"Let's just say... Canela," she began, a small chuckle slipping out, "she has a bit of a problem with coke."

I blinked once, then nodded slowly, glancing back at the fight.

The two women in the co-main event were going at it relentlessly—fast punches, constant movement, the crowd reacting to every clean hit.

"Well... I'm glad you don't have that problem anymore," I said, my voice a bit quieter this time.

For a second, Carla didn't respond.

"Yeah... haha," she said, but it came out a little off.

Not as confident.

I glanced at her briefly, noticing the way her eyes stayed locked on the fight, almost too focused, like she didn't want to linger on what I just said.

The tension was subtle, but it was there.

I looked back at the ring as the fighters kept exchanging blows, the sound of the crowd rising again.

Something about her response stuck with me a little longer than it should have.

A little while later, the energy in the arena shifted.

The lights dimmed slightly, and the crowd's chatter turned into a loud, unified buzz. Music blasted through the speakers as the announcer's voice echoed across the stadium, introducing the main event.

The first fighter made her walkout—a tall Russian woman, focused and serious, her team following close behind as she made her way down to the ring. The crowd reacted, but it was more respectful than explosive.

Then the music changed.

The entire arena seemed to come alive.

Out came Canela.

Her red hair stood out instantly under the bright lights, her expression confident, almost fearless. She bounced lightly as she walked, full of energy, feeding off the crowd as people cheered louder than before.

Cameras flashed everywhere.

You could feel the anticipation building with every step she took toward the ring.

"This is gonna be good," Carla said beside me, her knee bouncing slightly with excitement as she leaned forward in her seat.

Her eyes were locked onto Canela, completely invested.

"I hope so too," I replied, watching as both fighters entered the ring, their teams making final adjustments before stepping out.

The announcer's voice boomed again, going over records, stats, hometowns—everything building up to that final moment.

The bell hadn't even rung yet, and the tension was already thick.

——

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