Page 56 of Capuleto

"Yeah," I muttered, asking for the bill. I paid for the drinks, and we stepped outside.

On the way to the car, San Juan tried to distract me by asking questions about the Chinese. I gave him detailed information while the night breeze tousled my hair.

We were twenty meters from the vehicle when I received one of the worst calls of my life. Dante had died.

It felt like a lightning bolt struck and split me in two. Even though I had considered the possibility, you always hold on to hope, telling yourself he’s young, strong, healthy, and that a miracle could happen. You cling to any shred of hope, no matter how small.

I let out a scream that was swallowed by the night, dropped my phone to the ground, and punched the bark of the tree in front of me. Dante was gone, snatched away by the pain inflicted by a madman who had taken his life.

I didn’t see the group of women who had just crossed paths with us and were looking at me in horror. San Juan picked up the phone from the ground, pocketed it, gave me a few moments, and then stopped my assault on the tree, turning me around and pulling me into a consoling hug.

It didn’t matter that we had only known each other for an hour and a half; that was a gesture of humanity.

No words were needed; he immediately understood what had happened.

Drowned in his embrace, I thought of Andrey and how much I wished it were him, instead of a man from Don Giuliano, holding me.

I pulled away, overwhelmed, wiping away tears that I was ashamed to shed.

San Juan gave me some privacy and handed me a handkerchief, which I used.

He asked for the car keys and said he would drive, just tell him the name of the hospital.

I imagine he set the GPS, but I wasn’t sure. As soon as I sat down, I rolled down the window and searched for Dante’s favorite station, blasting it at full volume. If he could see me from somewhere, I hoped he understood my small tribute.

San Juan remained silent, respecting my grief. I spent the drive reminiscing about moments I had shared with Dante. Some were funny, others dangerous, and some were heartfelt.

A great person had gone, and R must be as devastated as I was.

When I arrived at the hospital, Koroleva was in the room with him. Her eyes were red, and her gaze lost as it met mine. She was shattered.

It was a fucking nightmare; that very morning, Dante was alive, and now... now he was gone forever. I went to the bed, overwhelmed, and all I could say was that I would find the one who had brought us to this situation.

Our hands clasped in a solemn grip. He wanted the same thing I did: justice for Dante and to unmask the person behind the resale of Mentium.

"I’ll find the person, I promise," I swore, locking eyes with him.

Romeo grabbed the board to jot down something while his wife fixed her gaze on the newcomer who remained on the sidelines.

"And you are?" she asked.

"Álvaro San Juan, Mrs. Koroleva."

Don Giuliano's man stepped forward to shake her hand.

"Have we met before? Your face looks familiar."

Romeo and I diverted our attention from the board to the dark-haired man.

"I haven’t had the pleasure. I know who you are because Don Giuliano has shown me photos of the people I need to protect." She smiled slightly.

"Then, it must be that some of your features remind me of someone. I’m very good with faces; I’m sure I’ll remember the name sooner or later."

"Some say I look like Javier Rey, the Spanish actor. Maybe it’s that; there was a series with him on TV recently."

"That could be."

She stopped examining him. It was true he did resemble Javier.