Unlike the capital, whose lights carried an air of luxury and prestige, Puerto Esperanza thrived on commerce. Cargo ships dotted the coastline, cranes towered above the docks, and warehouses stretched endlessly toward the harbor where business continued long after midnight.
As the rotors continued spinning overhead, powerful gusts of wind swept across the tarmac.
A convoy of black armored SUVs had already been waiting.
More than forty men dressed in identical black suits stood in perfect formation on either side of the landing zone, their heads lowered respectfully as Santiago stepped out of the helicopter.
"Chief."
The greeting echoed in perfect unison.
Santiago acknowledged them with a slight nod before buttoning his suit jacket against the strong sea breeze. Mateo followed closely behind, his sharp eyes instinctively scanning the surroundings while several shadow guards spread out, securing the perimeter before the convoy departed.
