Inside an abandoned brewery, Don Romero sat in a swivel chair, a stick of tobacco between his lips. He let out a deep growl and dropped the stick in an ash tray before him. Mason was standing before him, his head lowered and his heart slamming against his chest in fear. He knew he had crossed the line, and that he could die at any moment. Don Romero glared at him, his brown teeth grinding against each other. He felt intense anger, but he was trying to stay as calm as possible. With a smack of his palm on the desk, he startled Mason.“What is wrong with you?” He asked, his voice calm but definitely domineering. “I'm s..”“Save your silly apology, you brat! What did I tell you? Did I not ask you not to lay hands on him!?” He banged on the desk again, and Mason finally raised his face, seething.“I don't get what you need him for! If you want revenge, why are you protecting him!?” Don Romero's eyes narrowed, releasing a heavy breath. It was obvious that he was trying to hold back and
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