Page 38 of Capuleto

He went to pour the contents of the canister and Dante tackled him. The can fell and overturned, forming a growing pool of gasoline. Dante was much more robust than the journalist, so he pinned him down with all his weight to restrain him. Jonás struggled, causing himself multiple cuts from the glass scattered on the floor.

"Let me go, your son of a bitch!" he bellowed.

"Not in your dreams," Dante replied, striking his wrist to make him drop the lighter.

I crossed the distance between us and effortlessly snatched it away.

"That's it. It's over," I announced, my pulse racing. "We all regret your loss and, despite what has happened, my promise stands. I will find out who it was, I just ask for patience and space. The pain you're feeling now would not have vanished by seeing us die. All you would have achieved is more problems."

"And what do you know about my problems?!"

"I have a son too, and remember that his mother died from taking Mentium."

"Do you mean that kid who's been with you for six months and you knew nothing about? That one raised by your sister or your cook because you're too busy? Ha! I laugh at your shitty fatherhood. You have no idea what it's like to be a father. To see his little face for the first time, to change a diaper, or to encourage his first steps."

"You haven't spent a single night awake because your son couldn't breathe due to bronchitis, and you were worried he might die of suffocation. You haven't soothed his pain from colic that twisted his guts, or the pain he suffers when his teeth come in. You haven't even felt the thrill of hearing his first word."

"You don't know what it's like to breathe in his scent and die of love because you know nothing will ever smell the same again. You haven't been a father, although you hold the title, nor do you know what it feels like to receive a call telling you that you will never see him again."

"Enough!" Dante scolded him. "Your pain is no excuse for wanting to screw over Romeo when he's offering you his help."

"Let him go," I warned my man. "It's okay. It's impossible for him to be reasonable now. Let him get up and go home."

Dante looked at him with displeasure, but still obeyed.

Jonás refused to take his hand, standing up with numerous cuts and shards embedded in his skin.

"Should I take you to a hospital to check your wounds?" I offered.

"I don't want anything from you, not even the air you breathe," he spat, backing away. There was barely a gap to pass through.

"Get out before I regret listening to my boss and not calling the police for property damage and threats!" Dante roared.

The journalist reached the gap, several meters away from us, taking the can of gasoline with him. He stood there, looking at us with disdain, putting his left hand in his pocket.

Then he gave us a sardonic smile and let a trail of gasoline fall at his feet.

"A smoker never leaves home without two lighters. Happy barbecue! See you in hell," he announced, lighting the object we hadn't noticed.

He knelt down before we could reach him and ignited the fire.

The flames began to devour his feet and spread like a plague into the bar.

Never underestimate an enemy who has just lost a son, because he has no more life left to burn.

17

Manicure

My sister-in-law's nail salon was packed. She had already mentioned that if I ever wanted to go, I would need to make an appointment, but I went there anyway because I needed an alibi.

I was very angry, but if life had taught me anything, it was that smart women don't make dramas, they make deals, and I was very good at negotiating.

As soon as I left the hotel, I called Andrey to get an update on how things were in St. Petersburg.

I was pleased to hear that everything was under control and that my men were performing well in the city, even in my absence.

My businesses were thriving, Sarka had her bodyguards integrated into her daily life, and there was no longer a need for Andrey to stay longer.