Rey

Rey Alastair sat back in his black Porsche 911, enjoying the taste of his expensive cigarette. The traffic jam in São Paulo didn’t bother him. His attention was on a call with one of his men.

“Make sure everything is ready tonight at the port. The weapons drop must go smoothly, no mistakes,” Rey's voice was firm and commanding. “If anyone interferes, you know what to do.”

After ending the call, Rey glanced at the rearview mirror, his mind drifting to his dark business—illegal weapons, drugs, and money laundering. It was his life now, built on violence and power. Power, for Rey, came in many forms.

A light tap on the car window interrupted his thoughts. Tap, tap, tap.

Rey turned, his cold eyes locking onto a young girl standing outside. She was disheveled, her clothes worn and dirty, but there was something about her. Despite her appearance, Rey noticed the strength in her eyes, a quiet confidence.

He rolled down the window slowly, the engine purring softly. "What do you want?" he asked, his voice low and impatient.

The girl didn’t answer. She simply held up the newspaper she was selling, offering it to him. Rey studied her for a moment, intrigued. She wasn’t the usual street vendor.

"So, you want me to buy your newspaper?" he asked, his tone a mixture of mockery and curiosity.

The girl nodded slightly. Rey studied her closely, something about her piquing his interest. He had seen many faces in this city, but none like hers. Strength hidden under poverty.

“How much?” Rey asked, his voice tinged with curiosity as he wondered who she really was.