Chapter 20: Crossroads
Jesse stood alone in the dimly lit warehouse, the hum of the fluorescent lights above barely masking the sound of his own breathing. The air smelled of chemicals and sweat, the scent of the empire he had built with his own hands. His empire.
The cartel had been broken, its remnants either scattered, absorbed, or buried. The last few weeks had been a whirlwind of power moves, strategic assassinations, and securing alliances. Jesse was now the dominant force in the Southwest meth trade, a fact that came with both security and immense danger.
But as he stared at the towering steel shelves stocked with neatly sealed blue crystal, he felt… nothing.
For the first time in months, he wasn't running, wasn't fighting for survival. He had won. And yet, there was an emptiness in his chest that even the best chemical high in the world wouldn't be able to fix.
Then came the knock on the warehouse door.
Jesse turned sharply, hand instinctively moving to the pistol tucked in the back of his waistband.
"Yo, it's me."
Skinny Pete's voice.
Jesse exhaled and unlocked the reinforced door, letting Pete and Badger step inside. They looked nervous. That wasn't good.
"What?" Jesse asked immediately.
Pete swallowed. "It's about Rachel, man."
Jesse's stomach twisted. He hadn't seen her in over a week. Their last conversation had left things… unresolved. She needed answers. He had given her half-truths.
"She left town," Badger said, shifting uncomfortably. "Didn't tell nobody. Just packed up and dipped."
Jesse felt something cold settle in his gut. He knew this was a possibility. He had been holding onto the illusion that maybe, just maybe, he could still have something normal, someone who saw him as more than just another drug kingpin.
But Rachel had made her choice. And, in a way, Jesse had made his.
"She left a letter," Pete said, pulling a folded piece of paper from his jacket.
Jesse took it, but he didn't open it right away. Instead, he turned back toward the stacks of product, the millions of dollars worth of crystal that had come to define his life.
Rachel was gone. He was truly alone in this.
And now, he had to decide what that meant.
Cleaning Up Loose Ends
Rachel leaving town wasn't Jesse's only problem. With the cartel fractured, there were still rogue elements—dangerous men who would rather burn everything down than fall in line. He had stabilized most of the operation, but there were whispers of old cartel loyalists regrouping in Mexico. If he wanted to maintain control, he had to act fast.
Through his network, Jesse had pinpointed a handful of key threats. Santiago Rivera, a former lieutenant under Don Eladio, had been making moves south of the border. Rivera was dangerous, ruthless, and, most importantly, connected. If he managed to unify the remnants of the cartel, he could pose a real problem.
Jesse called a meeting. Not in the warehouse—too obvious. Instead, he gathered his closest men in a secluded airstrip just outside the city. The desert stretched endlessly around them, the dry heat pressing down on everything like an invisible weight.
Seated inside a small hangar were his key allies—Mike Ehrmantraut, Victor, Tyrus, and a few trusted enforcers.
"Rivera is moving," Jesse stated, getting straight to the point. "He's trying to put the old pieces back together."
Mike nodded. "Figured as much. Word is, he's been reaching out to old contacts in Sinaloa. Could be looking for suppliers."
Jesse took a breath. "Then we cut him off before he gets the chance."
Tyrus raised an eyebrow. "You want to go after him? In Mexico?"
Jesse nodded. "We don't wait for him to bring the fight to us. We end it on our terms."
Mike sighed. "It's a high-risk move, kid. But… if you're serious about keeping this empire standing, you're right. Can't let him regroup."
Jesse turned to Victor. "Get the logistics set up. We do this quick, clean, no mistakes."
Victor gave a sharp nod. "I'll handle it."
Jesse glanced around the room. No one spoke. They all understood what was happening. This was no longer a small-time operation. He was running a full-scale war.
The Hunt Begins
The plan was set. Within the next forty-eight hours, Jesse and a small team would fly down to Mexico, locate Rivera, and eliminate the threat before it could escalate.
But before that, Jesse had something he needed to do.
He sat alone in his apartment that night, Rachel's letter resting on the table in front of him. He hadn't read it yet.
Taking a slow breath, he unfolded the paper.
Jesse,
I don't know who you are anymore.
I wanted to believe in you. I wanted to believe that there was still something real between us, that whatever you were caught up in didn't define you. But I see it now. This world you've built, this empire you're running—it's consuming you. You told me you weren't like the others, that you were different. But I see you now for what you really are. And I can't be a part of it.
I hope you find what you're looking for. But I won't be here when you do.
Goodbye.
Jesse sat back, staring at the words until they blurred together.
He had spent months securing his power, outmaneuvering enemies, and building something no one else could touch.
But the one thing he actually cared about was gone.
He closed his eyes. For a brief moment, he allowed himself to feel the weight of it.
Then he opened them again.
He had work to do.