Army Of Two The Devil 39-s Cartel Xenia -

“Xenia,” Rios said, lowering his rifle a fraction. “You’re not on our list.”

“La Familia nunca se va.”

“I want to watch him die knowing his own blood sold him out.”

A wall slid open.

“Now,” she said, ejecting her magazine and slotting a fresh one, “I find the next devil.”

But at the armory door, Salem grabbed her arm. “You’re not just here for the guns. What’s your real play?”

Salem kept his bead on her. “Then why are we here?” army of two the devil 39-s cartel xenia

But as someone who had finally stopped being a ghost.

Xenia didn’t flinch when the safe house door blew off its hinges.

Xenia didn’t cry. She didn’t scream. She disassembled her rifle, cleaned it in silence, and began planning. The mission with Salem and Rios was supposed to be a one-off: destroy El Diablo’s main weapons depot south of the border. Xenia guided them through sewer tunnels she’d mapped herself, past patrol routes she’d memorized, and into the heart of the compound. “Xenia,” Rios said, lowering his rifle a fraction

“Xenia… mi hija,” he rasped. “You brought friends.”

She had been waiting. The two American contractors—Salem and Rios—stormed in like bulls, rifles up, expecting a cartel lieutenant to be cowering behind a desk. Instead, they found her: a woman in her late thirties, black tactical vest over a gray shirt, short-cropped dark hair, and eyes that had stopped feeling anything years ago.