- "Escúchame, chinga tu madre. Nunca me encontrarás, so para de mirar. No me controlas, te controlo, controlo a todos, me respetan o se mueren." -

His tie consisted of a black string, ending in golden beads, a golden wolf sitting right where the knot of a traditional tie would be. The little golden aspects where the only spots of color of his black suit. He looked clean and fancy with his curly hair gelled back. If you saw him on the street, he would look like a business man but Benito was anything but that. His collar was barely covering the tattoo on his throat that read Venganza. Revenge had never been his biggest motivation but it had been for his clients. You wanted to take revenge by killing someone? Just contact El Lobo and the job is done almost immediately. Benito had never killed because of personal reasons, to him, it was just a job - like delivering a package. All he life he had been alone and he had liked it. Being alone meant that you didn't have a weakness. The only person he had ever genuinely loved, had been his mother who had died due to cancer when he had been just nine years old. From that moment on, he had lived with his grandmother and his two little brothers. Only four years later, his grandmother died as well and he and his brothers were sent to live with his father in New York City. His father had been abusive, especially towards his youngest brother, Bysael who had always wanted to be a professional Baseball player. He had protected both of his siblings and in order to do so, he had learned fighting. Benito had become good at it and soon he had caught the attention of El Saguaro, the most notorious drug lord of New York City. Although Benito had nothing to do with drugs, he had come in handy for El Saguaro. First, he had functioned as a bodyguard, later he had turned into his personal hitman who would take out anyone his boss wanted gone. Benito had climbed in the gang's hierarchy and by the age of 28 he had made his first million. El Lobo was a household name in East Harlem, Queens and the Bronx and everyone feared him.

In the Upper East Side, a young woman named Lucrecia was preparing herself for a party organised by her parents. Her hair was put perfectly into a braided bun. There was not a single strand of hair hanging out. In her blue dress she looked like a princess. An expensive Cartier necklace was drawing attention to her long, slim neck. Professional make up artists had spent hours to make her face look flawless. Her mother, one of the most successful lawyers of the state, had wanted her to find a husband and for that she needed to look perfect. Lucrecia felt like she was trapped in a bad movie. Her family was wealthy and very judgemental, especially when it came to men that wanted to date their precious little princess. Ever since she had turned 21, she had started to sneak out at night. Now she was 27 and her alter ego - the one that went to every party, took drugs and did whatever she wanted - had become an essential part of her life. By day, she was the well behaved, educated and graceful princess her parents wanted her to be and by night she turned into the wild, careless rebel she had always wanted to be. She had always found the gang members of New York interesting. The guys her parents usually introduced to her were boring in her eyes. Always the same conversations about the elite college they had gone to, how much money the would inherit, the businesses their parents ran and so on. All her life she had done what she had been expected to do - smile, nod and act impressed. 

Their lives couldn't have been more different but you know what they say: opposites attract.