CHAPTER 53: THE FIRE

Chapter 53

JACE MARINO

I just wanted to go home. But Marco had called earlier, saying we were meeting at the club. He and Mateo were already there. The night club wasn’t exactly a safe haven, but it was one of the few legal faces of the family business. At least on paper. To everyone else, it was just music, drinks and rich men pretending they’re not sinners.

When I got there the bass was loud enough to make the floor shake. I found my brothers in the back office going through papers and receipts. Marco was sitting with his legs up on the desk smoking. Mateo was focused on the ledger tapping a pen against his teeth like he wanted to stab it into someone.

"Finally," Marco said when I walked in. "You look like shit."

"Good to see you too," I said, closing the door. I sat down beside Mateo glancing over the papers. "What’s this?"

"Expenses," he said, "and some idiot who thinks he can get free nights at our club."

"The one who owes two months’ tabs," Marco added. "Some businessman who thinks we’re charity."

The man in charge of the club, a nervous little guy named Felix, was already sweating before I even looked at him. "He’s... he’s been avoiding calls, sir. Said he’ll pay next week. But that was two weeks ago."

Marco rolled his eyes. "Of course he did."

Felix was the kind of man who thought every conversation was life or death, and with us, maybe it was. I didn’t like watching him squirm, but he was right to be scared.

"We’ll handle it," I said. "Tell the loan boys to reach out. Nothing violent, not yet. Just a reminder."

Marco nodded. "Good. I already told them. We can’t let this kind of disrespect slide."

Felix looked relieved. "Thank you sir. I’ll make sure everything is in order."

"Go," Marco said. "And take a night off. You’re starting to look like a corpse."

Felix nodded and almost ran out of the office.

When he was gone, Mateo leaned back in his chair. "So what’s next?"

"We stay quiet," I said. "Father’s too focused on the Yakuza front right now. He’s quiet but I know that’s what he’s doing. The less he sees of us the better."

Marco laughed. "Since when has that ever worked? You know the old man always finds something to complain about."

"Let him complain," I said. "At least we’re still alive to hear it."

For a while, we just sat there. The room smelled like whiskey. Marco poured a drink for each of us and for a second, it almost felt normal. Three brothers trying to hold something together that was already falling apart.

Mateo looked tired. He hadn’t slept in days. I hadn’t either, but you wouldn’t know it from how Marco was smiling. He was the kind who laughed when everything was falling apart. Said it helped him think straight. Maybe he was right.

We joked about stupid things. Mateo said I was getting soft because of Julian and Marco nearly choked on his drink laughing. I told him to shut up. He didn’t.

"Let me ask you something real quick," Marco said.

"Don’t," I warned. I know it’s going to be something stupid.

"When you were still in your prime—"

"I’m still in my prime."

"Your professor prime," he grinned. Mateo let out a breathy laugh

"Does he call you professor?" Marco teased. "Like— ’Professor, can I stay after class?’"

I threw a napkin at him. "You’re an idiot."

"I’m the fun one," he said.

Mateo smirked. "That’s debatable."

We ended up laughing for a bit. It was stupid and light, but I needed it. For a few minutes it felt like we were just brothers not Marinos. Not killers. Just us.

By the time we left the club, it was close to midnight. We drove straight back to the safe house, quiet most of the way. The city lights faded behind us as we hit the main road. I stared out the window, thinking about Julian. His voice still echoed in my head from the call the night before. He’d tried to sound happy, but I could tell something was wrong. He hides his pain in jokes, but I know better. I always know.

When we got back none of us had the energy to go to our rooms. We collapsed in the living room, still half in our clothes, half in our thoughts. Marco grabbed a blanket off the couch and threw it over Mateo who was already snoring.

"Guess we’re crashing here," he said.

"Guess so," I said. I closed my eyes, letting the sound of the rain hit the windows. I didn’t even know how long I slept before the phone started ringing.

Marco groaned and reached for it. He didn’t even check the screen. "Who the hell—"

Then I heard the voice.

"You have the luxury to sleep while my business burns to the ground?"

My stomach went cold. Father.

Marco sat up straight, eyes wide. "We’ve been working all day. What happened?"

"The club," Father snapped. "You left it three hours ago, didn’t you? It’s burning as we speak."

I knew he was watching us.

"What?" Mateo said, half awake now.

"Get your useless asses over there," Father barked. "Before I decide you’re better off in the ashes."

The call ended. Just like that.

Marco looked at me. "He’s joking, right?"

"He doesn’t joke," I said, already on my feet.

We were out the door in seconds. The drive back was a blur of headlights and panic. Smoke filled the skyline before we even reached the block. The club was gone — a shell of fire and black smoke. Fire trucks were just pulling up, but the flames were already eating through the roof.

We parked a few streets away. I got out first, the heat hitting me hard in the face. Marco cursed under his breath. Mateo just stood there, frozen.

"Jesus Christ," he said quietly. "We were just here."

I didn’t answer. My mind was racing. Who would do this? The Yakuza? The Serranos? Or was this Father’s own doing, another punishment disguised as "business cleanup"?

A few of our men were already on site, wearing masks and pretending to be part of the cleanup crew. They nodded when they saw us.

"Anyone inside?" I asked one of them.

"Two bartenders. One guard. They didn’t make it," he said, voice low. "We’re clearing the place before the cops come."

"CCTV?" Marco asked.

"Gone," the man said. "We’re searching for backups, but I think the main SD cards burned."

Mateo walked closer to the wreckage, kicking a piece of charred wood. "They torched it clean. No trace left."

The fire reflected in his eyes, and for a second, I saw fear there. Real fear. Not for himself, but for what Father would do when he found out this wasn’t just some random fire.

"Pull everything that’s left," I told the crew. "Computers, boxes, anything with names. Don’t let the police find a single thing."

They nodded and got to work. I stood there watching the flames. They were too bright, too alive.

Marco came up beside me. "You think Father did this?"

"No," I said. "He wouldn’t destroy his own business."

Marco looked at me. "You sure?"

No, I wasn’t. Not even close.

We waited until the cleanup crew finished. The firefighters had started moving in by then, and the police were taping the area off. One of our men tossed me a bag full of half-burned documents and a blackened hard drive.

"That’s all we could save," he said.

"Good," I replied. "Go before they start asking questions."

We left before the cops could even get near. The smoke followed us down the street, thick and heavy, clinging to our clothes. I rolled the window down, trying to breathe.

Marco was gripping the steering wheel too tight. "He’s going to kill us."

"He won’t," I said, though I didn’t sound convincing.

"He’s going to lose his mind," Mateo said quietly from the back seat. "You know how he gets."

Yeah, I knew. Father didn’t forgive. He only waited for the right time to make you bleed.

When we got back to the safe house, the phone was already ringing again. Marco picked it up on the second ring. He didn’t even say hello.

"What happened," Father said, his voice sharp like glass. "Tell me."

"We’re looking into it," Marco said. "We think it’s sabotage— maybe Serrano—"

"Excuses," Father cut in. "Do you know how this makes me look? My own sons can’t even guard a building."

"We’ve been running everything since you started this alliance with the Takedas," Marco shot back. "You can’t expect—"

"Don’t finish that sentence," Father snapped. "You’ll come home in the morning. All of you. We’re not done talking."

The line went dead again.

Marco threw the phone onto the couch and sat down, rubbing his face. "He’s going to chew us alive."

Mateo didn’t say anything. He just sat down on the floor, staring at the wall.

I poured myself a drink and stared out the window. The city lights blinked in the distance, cold and far away. Somewhere out there, Julian was sleeping, maybe dreaming. I wanted to call him. I wanted to hear his voice. But I couldn’t. Not tonight.

Marco broke the silence. "You think this is connected to Aiko?"

"Maybe," I said. "Maybe not. But whoever did it wanted to send a message."

"What message?"

I turned around, met his eyes, and said, "That nowhere is safe anymore."

We sat there in silence for a long time. The smell of smoke was still on my clothes. It was almost morning before I finally closed my eyes.

And I dreamed of nothing.