THE BRUTE CEO

revenge and justice. He was the beginning, the middle and the end. The poison flowed through his veins, fueling him with obstinacy. He stopped in front of a mediocre type when unarmed. Less than an insect. Saggy cheeks, fifty-something years on the back. The face devastated by alcohol, cigarettes and evil. A cancer with legs and arms. - Do you believe you will have a second chance? - He asked, cynically. The man kept his eyes on the ground.

Legend has it that if confronted by Romeo Grassi, anyone who dared to look into his eyes would have their soul sucked into the pit of hell, because seeing his soul, the unwary person's would be lost. But most of the time whoever confronted him was shot in the head. This was when he was having a good day or had time to watch with great interest the life draining from the body of someone who, for one reason or another, had the misfortune of crossing paths with the farmer. - I have a family, Mr. Grassi, small children to raise. Romeo considered that it was the first time that the guy had humiliated himself. After all, he had always managed to get away with what he did. But not that night, not anymore, he considered, shifting his eyes now to the others. - Do you all have families? They nodded with a slight nod. - Interesting - said Romeo, walking around them, assessing the sudden humility of each one, now, surrendered and cornered - And yet they're in a terrible situation, aren't they? No one made any head gestures. He assimilated the grotesque features disguised as servility and assessed whether it was worth disappearing with those people. Chapter 2 The following night The shed used for that meeting was located in an area further away from the main house of the Grassi farm and stud farm. A rustic stone building of Italian colonial architecture. In fact, it was only used to store the bags of fertilizers where drugs were often packed for transport, and, every now and then, Romeo would sit at the table with his associates or someone worth talking to. The warm wind entered through the hollow openings in the windowless walls. The floor was made of a rough, worn material typical of rural warehouses. Two wooden chairs, like those seen in bars, were separated by a table with a white and red checkered tablecloth. Cutlery crossed on the plates, glasses of red wine half empty, an ashtray with cigarettes consuming themselves. Romeo was having dinner with Massimo Ferrante. - Why did you ask if they had a family? - Asked the old man with white hair cut close to his skull, dull light eyes, a boxer's nose, and dry, sunburned skin. - So that the last thought would make them suffer. - The emotionless voice. - Sometimes you are very philosophical, Romeo - The other laughed and it was a big laugh - What attracts you to torture, mio ​​amico? I ask this, because I know what attracts me to torture: the power, the brief minutes when I am God - now he smiled, cigarette smoke escaping between his dry lips. - They were land grabbers. - Hmm, how unlucky they are - Massimo clicked his tongue on the roof of his mouth - They were already doomed - He wiped off some ash that fell on his pants with his fingertips - Were they the ones who invaded the indigenous reserve? Romeo nodded and took another sip of wine. - Exactly. Their leader was Bernardino Amaro, a gunman who sold his services to farmers, contractors and politicians in the region - he said, angrily, then sighing - He pissed himself when I took the knife out of the sheath. Massimo laughed loudly, in his scandalous way as an Italian who had lived in Brazil for over forty years. - In a way, you did the gunman's former bosses a favor, burning the files without them getting their hands dirty. The farmer's gaze slowly fell on the older man's eyes. - The bosses are on my list, my dear. - There was serenity in the way he spoke. - I hope you don't become a vigilante, that's not good for business - The old man adjusted himself in his chair, leaning forward as if he were going to tell him a secret - Stay discreet and reserved as you always were, a little death here and there It doesn't attract anyone's attention there. But if you start messing with big people, politicians and agribusiness scoundrels, you could compromise the organization, not just yours, but mine. -Spare me the speech. Romeo stood up, ending the conversation, but the Italian gave him a suspicious look. | Massimo was an old-time drug trafficker, one of the few who had reached old age alive and without going to prison. - Please, my friend, let the land grabbers kill each other. Just pay attention to business. You have everything, you are a millionaire and you have a beautiful little son who needs his father alive, stay away from the abyss of your mind. Otherwise it will take us all to the bottom of it. - After all these years are you threatening me, old man? - The deep voice came out in a cold tone, the eyes rolled over the other's furrowed face and deepened until they touched his soul, dirty with soot and death - You will try to kill me if I put you in danger, I know that and I don't care. Just understand that, because I don't care, I can send you and your entire family to the abyss, just because I'm bored with your unsolicited advice - he clenched his jaw, controlling the incipient wave of disdain. - I didn't threaten you, I would never do anything to you. - Yup. - Romeo showed an ironic smile and added in an impersonal tone - The Funai delegate is in cahoots with the mayor whose lands border those of the indigenous people. He wants everything back and ordered the land grabbers to expel the indigenous people with bullets. I'm going after them all. Romeo's passage from an honest life to the criminal underworld began when he was 15 years old and a gang of land grabbers invaded his family's farm. The parents resisted and were shot. The younger brother was also murdered even though he did not resist. An eight-year-old child couldn't do much against land

sound of thunder mixed with the roar of strong winds that shook the branches of the rubber trees. Thick drops of rain fell relentlessly, turning the road into a mirror reflecting the glare of lightning. It was impossible to see the end of the storm. The girl huddled inside her cardigan, the soggy hood hid her short hair, leaving only her young face visible. The jeans were tight to her small, thin body. Because of the holes in her canvas sneakers, her socks were wet, sticking to her tired feet from so much walking.

She got out of the truck at the gas station and walked along the side of the road, more than an hour ago. Pushed by the wind and lashed by the rain, she felt on the verge of physical exhaustion, but she couldn't stop walking until she found a safe place to spend the rest of the night. Lightning snaked across the sky, brightening all around, and she saw the fence bordering the homestead. She looked around the deserted dirt road with mud piling up on the shoulder. There was no alternative, she had to risk seeking refuge somewhere. She cautiously approached the barbed wire fence whose sharp edges seemed ready to strike. She watched the twists and turns of the fence, looking for a weak spot to squeeze through. She carefully stretched her arms and placed her hands on the wires, feeling the cold of the metal against her skin. Taking a deep breath, she pushed hard feeling the pain of the barbs pressing into her fingers. Even though she was filled with a mixture of determination and fear, she needed to continue. She writhed, tearing her clothes and scratching her skin, until she finally managed to get through the fence and into the farm. Now she just had to run across the open field until she found a dry, covered place. She saw the large wooden barn and, without thinking a second time, charged towards it. She breathed through her mouth, her throat dry, fear constricting her insides. The double doors of the barn were slamming in the wind. The rain was now pouring down in torrents, and she had no way of seeing if there was anyone else on the property, a security guard, anyone to ask permission to stay there for the night, she could barely see a foot ahead. She ran inside the building with high ceilings, red wooden walls and wide windows. The floor was covered with packed earth full of puddles of water. The damp and cool environment was spacious. Stacks of hay bales, tied tightly with ropes, reached to the ceiling. She calculated that each bale was about two meters long and weighed around eighty kilos. The smell of dry hay permeated the room. She settled in behind an old Deere tractor that looked abandoned. The paintwork was dirty and stained with rust ballasts. She then sat down, got rid of the backpack that was on her back and pressed herself against her wet coat. The right thing to do was to take it off and just keep the t-shirt on. She could stretch her clothes out on the tractor so they would dry until the next morning. But she trembled so much and was so terrified that she dared not move. The rumble of thunder echoed through the cracks in the windows and doors. The walls seemed to shake with every gust of wind. Everything evoked a vision of hell. There, huddled in a stranger's barn, chattering from the cold because of her wet clothes, hungry and thirsty, but above all, terrified and defenseless, Mariana wondered if she had actually done what was right. Just as her mind went down the path of self-pity, she heard the explosion of lightning and then saw through the open barn doors the flame consume the tree as it collapsed to the ground in flames. She covered her ears and began to repeat a prayer that she didn't know who she learned from, but that most nights had helped her sleep, or at least calmed her spirit. With God I lie down. With God I rise. In the grace of God. And the Divine Holy Spirit. And may Our Lady cover me with her divine mantle. She had to repeat it several times, speaking softly, hugging her knees. Sleep gradually enveloped her and took her away from there. Chapter 4 She woke up to furious barking. For a moment she thought about running out of the barn, but the situation was too dangerous. She didn't need much information to realize that she was surrounded by two huge dogs and, if it hadn't been for the structure of the tractor blocking their path, she would have been attacked while she slept. The day was dawning without the chaos of the storm, only the torrent of rainwater gave no respite. She crawled under the tractor and huddled as close as she could between the tall wheels. She had the body of a 14-year-old, although she was six years older, so it was easy to disappear from the dogs' sight. The problem was that they were guided by scent and had already detected her presence in the barn. She wanted to chase them away so she could get away, but she knew that chasing away Rottweiler dogs was the task of people, at the very least, without a love of life, or somewhat ignorant about the intelligence of those animals. The large, muscular bodies, with shiny black fur, positioned themselves in an attack position with only the tractor between them as they continued to bark. Until she heard the male voice reverberate like thunder. - What's going on here? The girl didn't dare move. The dogs continued to bark, facing her direction, wanting to show the man the invader. She then began to shake violently, she couldn't control the spasms knowing that at any moment she would be caught red-handed. She feared that the man was a bad person, but the truth was that she trespassed on his property. She was wrong, she needed to gather courage and reveal herself, apologize and get back on the road. But before she took any action, she saw a pair of cowboy boots stop in front of the tractor, right where she was squeezed. - I'm not armed, but my dogs haven't had breakfast yet. So whoever you are, you better get out from under the tractor. - He said, in a firm and calm voice, from which he expected to be obeyed. Now she was more afraid of him than the Rottweilers. She put her backpack back on her back, pulled the zipper on her coat, zipping it up to her neck, and wrapped her head in the hood again. She crawled out and knelt behind the vehicle. She stood up very slowly and, as she did so, her eyes followed the figure of the man whose dogs flanked him serenely, as if nothing had happened. For a moment she considered that these two were security guards for the owner, not the property, flanking him in silent respect. The cowboy hat shadowed the stranger's face, but the girl could see the intense blue of his eyes contrasting with his pale, slightly tanned skin. Short hair and dark brown stubble. Expression

looked at him, still intimidated. - I didn't see anyone, sir. He once again set his jaw, looking uncomfortable. - Well, we'll have to do something, boy, because no one invades my farm and is then released as if nothing had happened. - Like this? - She dared to ask. - Where are you from? - he ignored her, approaching slowly without, however, stopping looking at her. - From the neighboring city. - Why were you walking in this endless open space in the middle of the night? - The question was filled with suspicion. He stopped very close to her.

There was at least a foot difference in height between them. Mariana had to tilt her head back to look at him. - I was looking for work. - If I have to repeat the question, you will answer by hanging from that hook over there - He pointed to a metal hook, suspended from one of the ceiling beams. Mariana wondered what that was for. - I'm telling the truth. I spent the day looking for a job and when it got dark and the rain fell, I hit the road. - Maybe you'll do a better job of giving me a good answer if I call the police. The way he mentioned the police seemed suspicious, there was a hint of mockery in the corner of the stranger's eyes, a slight cruel amusement and, at the same time, bluff. Yes, he was bluffing about putting the police in the middle of that situation. Still, she felt short of breath. She couldn't be arrested. In fact, she could, because at least she would have food and a roof over her head in prison. But once the deputy knew her name and surname, he would discover that she ran away from home and alert her family about her whereabouts. It was possible that they had gone to the police station in the city where they lived to report her missing. And even if she was of legal age and they couldn't force her to return home, her mother and stepfather would try to contact her. And she couldn't take that risk. - Please, sir, don't call the police - she begged, in a low voice. The man hit his own thigh in order to attract the attention of his dogs, who quickly became alert, assuming a sentry position, sitting on their hind legs, their heads and small, smart eyes fixed on her. Their large mouths were slightly open, revealing the row of teeth that could easily dismember them. - You'll stay here while I find out what kind of idiot you are. - At that point he almost smiled, but then hardened his face - Maybe he's a hired killer. - With all due respect, sir, take a good look at me. - She asked, raising her voice a little - I don't even have the strength to hold a gun. - But to use a knife you only need dexterity and cold blood. He started to retreat, leaving her at the mercy of the dogs, and that couldn't happen. - Please, don't leave me here with them, I'm going with you. - He pleaded, without taking his eyes off the four-legged beasts. The third beast nodded slightly in agreement and waited for her to leave the barn, following in her wake. - Wait for me on the porch while I call the police. She stumbled when she heard him insist on that, even though she had the impression that the stranger was amused every time he mentioned the police. I wonder why? Perhaps he himself was a police officer and a farmer, or a police chief and a landowner. Maybe she was on the farm of a ruthless criminal, who killed and dismantled bodies, giving the pieces to the Rottweilers to eat. Believe me, with this perverse imagination of mine, I don't need enemies, she thought, making the sign of the cross in front of her chest. As he walked towards the main house, Mariana pondered whether to correct him regarding the fact that he thought she was dealing with a boy. Perhaps if she knew she was a girl, her distrust would ease and she would stop calling the police. The point was that she was afraid of men. The farmer was rude, at no point did he bother to listen to his side nor did he seem willing to let the incident go. She did not damage or steal anything from the property and it was not fair to involve the police in the case. All he had to do was let her go. On the other hand, passing as a boy gave him some protection. After all, she didn't know him, and she was alone on a farm, as he himself mentioned, in an open field. And, in addition to being a girl, she was still skinny and without any notion of self-defense other than gathering a stone to throw at the head of her possible attacker. Women were not born naturally armed like men, with their penises that could destroy lives. Taking all these arguments into account, she decided to maintain the misunderstanding and pretend to be a boy. Chapter 5 As they advanced across the drought-stricken plain, although that day the red soil was muddy and the yellow grass was damp in front of the main house, Mariana observed the line of men and women in front of a shed. What seemed to him like a queue of unemployed people looking for work. Maybe that was it, the hungry looks, the tired back, the hair and clothes wet from the rain. Their sun-baked skin betrayed their work in the fields, and if she got closer to them, she would see the thick knuckles whose calloused hands planted and harvested for others. But she didn't get any closer, she continued following the man to her house. Before they arrived, she allowed herself a minute to explore the place with eyes eager for beauty. The construction of the house was similar to what he had seen in his mother's magazines, it was called hacienda style architecture. A staircase led to the external porch on the first floor. The walls were made of exposed brick with a layer of white mortar, giving it a rustic and welcoming look. The windows had round arches and were protected by wrought iron bars. The entrance door was imposing and, like the windows, was surrounded by a dark wooden frame and an iron knocker. Since they left the barn, he hadn't looked at her, he seemed immersed in his own thoughts, even though she had seen him glance quickly at the people in front of the shed. She then took the opportunity to ask: - Is there a job opening on the farm? - It depends. - he said, over his shoulder. - Depends on what? She saw him stop and turn, looking at her critically. - Whose you are. - I'm just an idiot. I swear I just intended to wait for the rain to stop, but I ended up falling asleep. He cast a serious look over her head. Mariana turned around and saw a big dark-haired man, dressed in a t-shirt and jeans, a shotgun hanging over his shoulder. She knew the names of the weapons because her stepfather collected them. When he was drunk, she loaded the heaviest weapons and threw them into the air. Mariana hoped