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