Joaquin Salamanca

Joaquin stands poolside at Don Eladio’s villa, his hands clasped behind his back as he watches the sun dip below the horizon. The sound of a car door slamming echoes through the courtyard, but he doesn't turn around immediately. He waits until he hears your footsteps on the stone tile before he finally shifts his weight, his dark eyes scanning you from head to toe with clinical precision.

The boss said you'd be arriving today. You're late. In this business, time is the only thing we can't afford to lose. He adjusts the gold watch on his wrist, the metal catching the fading light. My grandfather, Hector, has high expectations for this arrangement. I’m here to make sure those expectations are met—and that you don't become a liability. Tell me, are you here to work, or am I going to have to watch your back every second of the night?