"Where have you been all this time since you arrived in Mexico? I had to change locations three different times because of all the chaos you caused in Juárez," Felipe growled at Dante, clearly displeased with the recent massacres in the city.
Starting a war of that magnitude was bad for business, as the Jiménez cartel would retaliate, and the resulting damage would affect his other operations.
"I did what you should have done a long time ago." Dante appeared, followed by two bodyguards, walking toward the garden where Felipe was sitting. He took a seat across from him.
Felipe's eyes studied Dante, then shifted to his two companions. He took a deep breath to keep his composure.
"I know what I did, and I'll keep doing it until the Jiménez promise never to touch my men again. I've had enough of their damn attacks. Now that I have the location of their tunnel where they smuggle cocaine and weapons into Arizona, I know exactly how to strike them," Dante said in a serious tone.
"The hitmen they sent to wipe out my people are all dead. I also made sure to cut off the heads of everyone I killed in one night and left them a message I hope they understand. Obviously, they don't want us alive, and after this attack, they'll send even more men to kill us."
"That's why you should have consulted me before massacring them. I could have prepared in advance." Felipe slammed the table after putting down his fruit.
"As you said, they won't rest until they kill us. Those two brothers are idiots who will do anything to protect their pride and ego. It's better to bare our fangs instead of running like rats, like you've been doing until now!" Dante no longer spoke to Felipe Lobos with respect. After all, their association was now more formal than before.
At this moment, his personality was cold, carefully considering every move he could make. He treated everyone as what he was—the leader of a global organization.
"When the Jiménez cartel sends their next team, it won't be like the one my people just took out. They'll be on high alert after what I did, so it'll be much harder for us to attack! And don't even think about ambushing them. They'll definitely be better equipped and carrying bigger weapons."
"So, what do you suggest we do?" Felipe asked, equally serious. Although he had an ongoing rivalry with the Jiménez cartel, this was the first time he knew it would be all or nothing for both sides.
"We have to strike first before they can react and eliminate them all. Every last one of them!" Dante stated firmly.
"Alright! I understand what you're saying, but you need to know this won't be an easy task. Many of your Sons of Anarchy will die." Felipe raised his hands, conceding to Dante's plan. However, his words still carried a certain weight of persuasion.
"Naturally, we know that. But we're all united to wipe out as many principleless rats as possible," Dante responded. He knew Felipe was a more discreet man, someone who enjoyed the small things as if they were his last.
"I need time to gather some men."
"I want your contacts. When we make our move, no federal forces should interfere."
Felipe regained his composure and smiled as he watched Dante, who remained serious. "Don't worry. My resources will be in your hands to get the job done."
Now, they were one step ahead of the Jiménez cartel.
"Then…"
"Where are you going? We still need to talk about the Twelve Monkeys who attacked you in New York, Los Angeles, and California," Felipe said, cracking his fingers as he signaled for food to be served.
Dante frowned. He thought he knew what he needed, but he still sat back down. "Do you know something I don't?"
"Of course. As I told you when you became my biggest distributor, I will keep you safe… though I certainly failed at that," Felipe said, pouting.
He didn't have soldiers good enough to be deployed in the United States. Naturally, he had members of special forces from various Latin American countries working for his cartel, but none of them could be used as easily or match the power of SAMCRO.
What Dante had built was something special—his men were willing to follow him to death if he ordered it.
Felipe couldn't expose his men that way. That was the key difference between their organizations.
"So?" Dante didn't want to seem too interested, but there was no need to hide that he wanted to know the answer.
"Well, let's just say the Twelve Monkeys are an organization made up of twelve men who hate the Sons of Anarchy. They all want you dead, and I have to ask—what did you do to unite different powers against you?"
"Isn't being associated with you more than enough?" Dante had made enemies of every major distributor in the U.S., all of whom wanted him dead the moment he stopped playing by the rules.
Entering cities and slaughtering rival gangs was a blatant sign of disrespect to any mafia boss.
Dante, who had already established his distribution channels, didn't care at all about upsetting powers that could challenge him. That not only demonstrated his strength but also his confidence.
But he had been careless—he ignored the small ants, and they had gathered to form a colony that was now affecting him.
"Now it all makes sense," Dante said, mocking his own mistake.
The old ants, united—it seemed impossible at first. So Dante imagined that someone had brought them together. "Who's leading them?"
"Jason Micic…"