Chapter five

Antonino retrieved his gun, filled with frustration, determined to finally put an end to her presence, exhausted from the prolonged chase with her at that moment, Julian swung open the door.Julian, his face a portrait of stony gravity, remained unmoved by Antonino’s outburst. The tension in the room was palpable, the very air electrified with the gravity of the moment.

"We've got a problem,Antonino he said, his voice a somber undercurrent to Antonino’s raging torrent. Julian was the only person allowed to call Antonino by his name.

"What!" Antonino roared back, his face flushed red with rage, the tendons in his neck standing out like taut ropes. "Can't you see I'm busy? About to kill this wandering slut and dump her body in the gutter," he seethed.

Rosa’s world shrank down to a point of primal, animalistic terror, her eyes saucer-wide with fear as Antonino’s words rang out with the finality of a death sentence. Tears streamed down her cheeks, her mind a cacophony of panic and despair.

Julian, observing the situation, registered the chaos unfolding with a furrowed brow and a confused air. The situation, a swirl of tension and unanswered questions, was a labyrinth he was struggling to navigate.

He drew a deep breath, his mind racing.Julian’s tone remained measured and precise, like a surgeon wielding a scalpel, his words deliberate and sharp. “Your father, he was on his way to Hawaii when he was attacked,” he said, the information delivered with the weight of a falling anvil.

Antonino paused, the red tide of fury in his veins abating, “What!” Antonino exploded, his voice booming like a thunderclap across the room, his words a deluge of fury. “Who would dare to attempt an assassination on my father?” He turned away from Rosa, his gaze a sharp, cutting tool, fixating on Julian. “What went wrong?” His voice, though still etched with rage, had dropped to a simmer, controlled and focused.

Antonino, with a cold disdain that cut like a blade, turned his back on Rosa, the tempest of his anger now directed solely at Julian. “I hope he is unharmed,” he growled, his words a testament to the gnawing concern that had begun to eat away at the edges of his wrath.

“Have you heard from him? Where is my father now?” Antonino pressed, his questions an arrow-straight trajectory of worry and anger.

Rosa, a tangle of emotions, wept silently in the corner, her despair a heavy shroud, her voice a mere whisper in the tempest of Antonino’s wrath, she didn’t hear him leave.

“Your father is safe, Antonino. Stop worrying,” Julian soothed, his voice a balm to the raging flames of Antonino’s anger. “We’ve contacted the men in Mexico. They’re with your father now, in a safe house.”Antonino stared at Julian, his eyes narrowed to slits of suspicion. “Mexico?” he said, the single word a rasping growl, surprise coloring his tone. “What was he doing in Mexico? The last I knew he was headed to Hawaii.”

Julian nodded, his expression grave. “The plane encountered an emergency. Forced to land in Mexico. The attack happened inside the plane.

Antonino’s jaw clenched tight, a storm of anger and uncertainty brewing in his mind. “This wasn’t a random attack.

Antonino’s incredulity was palpable, like the air itself had thickened with the weight of his realization. “You mean to say that someone, someone knew my father was on that plane, and deliberately attacked him,” he said, his voice low, his words the first chords of a song of vengeance.

As they descended the stairs, Antonino’s face remained a marble mask of shock, the cracks of rage and confusion beginning to form beneath the surface.

Julian, delivered the news to Antonino with the coldness of a glacial winter. “Your father dealt with the intruders. He says it was one of his new women who brought in a friend, one of Santo’s operatives,” he said, his voice clinical and precise.

“Your father took no chances. The woman, whether complicit or not, was thrown from the plane along with her friend,” Julian continued, his face a stoic mask, his tone the monotone of a coroner’s report.

Antonino’s swallow was a gulp of realization, his mind racing to the conclusion that, had he revealed Rosa’s presence to his father, the current complications would have been avoided. But it was too late to change the past.

“What are you thinking about?” Julian asked, his tone curious, his eyes searching Antonino’s face for the answers hidden within.

“Nothing serious,” Antonino responded, his voice nonchalant, but his eyes betraying the storm brewing beneath the surface.Julian, ever perceptive, sensed that there was more to Antonino’s answer than met the ear. But he didn’t push, knowing that Antonino would reveal his thoughts when the time was right.Are my men ready? He asked a question that strayed from the topic.

“What did you mean about the men being ready?” Julian asked, a crease of concern wrinkling his brow.

Antonino’s eyes glinted with a ruthless resolve, the determination to strike back at Santo hardening his gaze. “Santo won’t have the last laugh,” he declared, his words like the first volley in a coming battle. “We’re paying him a visit he won’t soon forget.”

Julian’s mouth pulled into a wry, half-smile, one eyebrow arched, a mischievous glint in his eyes.“Your father,” Julian said, a new seriousness lacing his tone like steel, “had instructed us to avoid further conflict with Santo, to focus on the business here. But we have a major problem. Mexico is Mr santo stronghold. And your father,” he paused, the weight of the moment making his next words heavy as lead, “killed Santo’s sister-in-law.”Julian, his gaze fixed on Antonino, the smile vanished from his face, continued, “Santo will not take kindly to the loss of a family member. Your father’s life is at stake. We must extract him from Mexico quickly, before Santo’s forces descend.”

Who is the sister-in-law? Antonino asked.

The new woman’s friend was Santo's sister-in-law Julian said. one of the eyebrows was arched and he had a half-smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, well the most important thing is getting your father out of the country.

Antonino, his face contorted in a mix of anger and worry, grumbled under his breath. “I warned him,” he said, his voice a simmering growl of frustration. “Time and again, I warned him about the dangers of his lifestyle, of the risks he took. But he’s so damn stubborn. Never listens.”

Julian, his expression lightening, his eyes twinkling with a devilish mischief, interrupted. “Now you know where you get your attitude from.”Antonino, his anger momentarily quelled by the jest, laughed, his shoulders shaking with mirth. “At least I’m not as stubborn,” he countered, a smirk playing at the edges of his lips.

As they descended into the garage, Antonino’s tone took on an edge of impatience, his thoughts already leaping ahead to the extraction mission. “Is the helicopter ready yet?” he demanded, his words a staccato burst of urgency.

Julian, his face now a mask of professional focus, responded with the calm assurance of a seasoned operative. “The helicopter’s ready, but we can’t just storm into Mexico like this. We have to be careful, stay under the radar. In and out, like a ghost.” Fine! I will think of something on our way he frowned.

The air inside the helicopter was as silent as a tomb, the heavy stillness punctuated only by the rhythmic whirl of the blades and the faint beeping of the instruments. No one dared break the quietude as Antonino’s thoughts churned, like dark clouds gathering on the horizon.

He thought of an idea.

When they touched down in Mexico, the first sight of his father was like a balm to Antonino’s soul. But the relief was short-lived, snuffed out like a candle in the wind as he spotted the woman.In a blur of speed, faster than the beating of a hummingbird’s wings, Antonino had the woman in his grip, his fingers like iron bands around her slender throat, his eyes blazing with a murderous intensity. His gun, its cold, hard presence a promise of death, appeared in his hand as if by magic.

The scene unfolded in a heartbeat, the world seeming to slow to a crawl as the woman’s wide eyes flicked from Antonino to Mr. Capello, a silent plea. His father couldn’t protect the lady from his temperamental and devilish son.

Antonino, his eyes feral and wild, his voice a savage roar, throttled the woman as his free hand, steady as a sniper’s breath, tightened around the trigger of his gun. “Who the hell is this woman, Dad?” he snarled, his rage a palpable, coiling serpent.

Mr. Capello, his face a granite block of furious disbelief, his eyes sparking with a cold, deadly glint, whipped out his own gun, its muzzle aimed at his son’s chest. “What in God’s name is wrong with you? Antonino’s eyes flashed with a dark, volatile energy, the poison of his rage coursing through his veins. “You’re the one who doesn’t know when to stop, Dad,” he growled, his grip on the woman’s throat tightening. “How many more times will you let these women bring you to the brink of death?”

Mr. Capello’s features hardened, his gun unwavering in his grasp. “You’ve lost your mind, boy,” he hissed, his voice ragged with fury.

Antonino wasn’t surprised, he knew his dad well enough for him to expect that reaction. Nobody dared interfere in this duel, so everyone stared at the father-and-son drama and waited for it to finish.

As Mr. Capello’s sarcasm sliced through the heavy air like a razor, his voice dripping with scathing mockery, Antonino felt a fresh wave of indignation rise within him.

“Well, if you must know,” his father continued, “she’s Laura, your mother’s college friend. I met her here in Mexico, took her to the safe house for her protection. So now you know. Are you satisfied?”

The silence that followed was thick with unspoken emotions, the ghosts of the past haunting the present moment.Antonino’s anger simmered, a cauldron of resentment boiling beneath his calm façade. The mention of his mother, a wound that had never fully healed, reopened in his heart, searing as it reminded him of the loss he carried within him.

Slowly, he released Laura, the tension in his fingers giving way as he allowed her to slide from his grasp. She stumbled, her hand reaching to soothe the tender skin on her throat, her fear a palpable, sour taste in the air.Antonino had forgotten for a minute his gun was still in his hand and he was trying to kill his mom's friend. He jolted back to reality.

Ooh, I am so sorry ma’am, he said as he let her go, smiled awkwardly at her, and gave his dad a stiff face.

The gravity of the situation heightened, the peril compressing Julian’s urgency into a sharp, pointed blade. “We must leave now,” he cut in, his voice a drill sergeant’s bark, the chopper waiting like a lifeline in the raging sea of danger.

On their way to the helicopter, Lost in thought, Antonino’s gaze lingered on Laura, his mother’s friend, his mind a blur of questions and wonderings about the woman his mother had once been.

Then, the world erupted into violence, gunshots shattering the stillness with a deafening roar.“Sir, we’re under attack!” one of Antonino’s men screamed, their voice a jagged shard of adrenaline-fueled terror.

Antonino’s orders rang out, his words a thunderclap of authority in the chaos. “Protect my father and Laura!” he bellowed, his face a mask of fierce determination as his men sprang into action, weapons raised, forming a protective circle around their charges.

**************************************

Rosa had cried herself to sleep when she woke up, she remained alert that she isn’t dead and her body was intact, her face was swollen and her eyes were poppy, she couldn’t believe she had cried in front of the devil himself, after promising not to. she felt bad but she was damn happy to be alive because that man was going to kill her and nobody was going to find her. She felt the world spinning and then she suddenly fainted.

In the aftermath of the gunfight, the air still thick with the acrid tang of gunpowder and the echoes of gunfire, Antonino took stock of the situation. Two of his men were injured, his father too, but their survival was a triumph in itself. Julian, unscathed by the crossfire, his skills with a gun unparalleled, moved with calm precision.

Reaching for his phone, Julian placed a call to Antonino’s secretary, his words sharp and direct. “We need doctors and pharmacists,” he said, the urgency of the situation radiating from his words.

The silence that had fallen upon Rosa’s room was as eerie as the stillness of a graveyard. Suspicious and concerned, the guards shouldered open the door, their eyes widening in horror at the sight that greeted them. Rosa lay unmoving, the pallor of her skin as cold and pale as death.

A palpable fear clutched the guards’ hearts, their mouths running dry as they scrambled to call Antonino’s secretary. But the secretary, her voice trembling, informed them that Antonino was unavailable. No word of this could reach him until his return.

Returning to the mansion, Antonino’s home, the air hung with the scent of medical supplies, the doctors hovering around him and his injured men. But Mr. Capello, ever the contrarian, waved off their concern, insisting on receiving his medical treatment at his own home.

“You’ve got enough on your plate,” he said, gesturing toward the other wounded men. “Besides, I’ve got Laura here. She can help me.”

Antonino, bristling at the idea, shook his head, his voice sharp with resistance. Antonino, his voice tinged with the rigid authority that came so naturally to him, stared his father down. “No,” he said, his eyes hard as diamonds. “I’m going with you. There’s no way I’m letting you out of my sight.”

Mr. Capello, his expression a mix of exasperation and fondness, slapped a hand on his son’s shoulder. “Alright, alright. Have it your way. But can we please get through this first?

As Antonino emerged from the melee of doctors, his attention still held captive by his father’s situation, the secretary, gathering her courage like a cloak about her shoulders, stepped forward, her tone measured and urgent. “Sir, I need to discuss something critical with you. It’s about your prisoner, she fainted".

Antonino’s voice was a taut wire, his frustration snapping like a live current. “Why didn’t you call the doctor? What if she’s dead?” he roared, his eyes flaring with anger.

The secretary, flinching at the outburst, stammered out a response, “I thought…”

“Don’t think. Do as I say.” Antonino’s voice, hard as granite, brooked no further argument. “Get the family doctor. Put her in the guest room.“She might be faking it.” Antonino’s voice was a low growl, suspicion and mistrust curling around his words like smoke. “I don’t trust that girl as far as I can throw her.”