Victor Ramos didn't rule his empire from some grand throne or a lavish office bathed in light. No, his power was wielded from a far less noticeable place, the back room of La Fortuna, a poker den that seemed ordinary at first glance. It was hidden behind a plain door in the heart of the garment district, it was a world apart from the city's flashy glamorous image.
Inside, the air was heavy with the smell of burning cigars, expensive whiskey and the quiet buzz of secret conversations. The sound of poker chips clinking was sharp like gunshots and the shuffle of cards added to the tension. This was where fortunes were won or lost in an instant, and where debts were far more dangerous than any written contract.
