Oscar and Thomas Brown were face to face again in Brown's club, the atmosphere charged with an almost electric tension.
—Can we know what this visit is for? —Brown said, his expression stone serious.
Oscar took a deep breath, trying to stay calm.
—I came here just to try to renegotiate. There must be a way to fix this.
"No," Brown interrupted, his voice firm as a hammer striking an anvil. I don't want to hear your words. As I already told you from the beginning, the debt is Miranda's. I will not accept that another person, and especially a man... pay for it.
Oscar felt rage begin to bubble up inside him.
"You're a son of a bitch," he began to say, but was interrupted.
-That? Are you going to want to hit me? said Brown, looking at him provocatively. Oscar Cooper.
Surprise ran through Oscar like a chill. How did Brown know his name? Had he been investigating it? That made him feel vulnerable; It was as if he were exposed to an enemy who knew all his secrets.
—What's wrong, Oscar Cooper? Brown continued with a smile, feeling in control. I see you're a little surprised. It's my duty to know what guys I'm dealing with; I am the owner of this area.
Oscar remained silent, his gaze fixed on Brown. Every word the man said pierced him like a dart. He tried to hide his greatest fear: that she would know that he was a fugitive in that place.
"I wonder what Miranda will think when she finds out that the one she trusts to rescue her... is a violent murderer and a stupid savage," Brown said, enjoying the effect of her words.
The mention of Miranda made Oscar's blood boil. Not only his life was at stake, but also the trust of someone important to him. The image of Miranda looking at him disappointed tormented him.
"I'm not a murderer," Oscar said, his voice firm but trembling.
—Oh, really? Brown replied with a wry smile. You beat your former manager to death. You are a savage, you deserve to be in jail. At this point I could call the police, and you would go to jail. But don't worry, I'm a good person; Idiots like you have to be given another chance.
Oscar felt rage bubbling up inside him, but what really tore him apart was the doubt Brown had sown. Had he really killed the man he hit? The image of the fallen body tormented him. Their hands were shaking a little, as if they were remembering the impact.
"You'd better forget Miranda," Brown continued, enjoying the impact of his words. Tell me, what do you prefer: save yourself or her?
Oscar swallowed, feeling the air grow thick between them. The question hit him like a punch to the gut. He realized that he was caught between his survival instinct and his desire to protect Miranda.
"I don't have to choose," he finally answered, even though he knew that wasn't the truth. I will do whatever it takes to save her.
—Okay, you can go now. "But think carefully, dear Oscar." A sardonic laugh escaped Brown.
Oscar left the place, feeling that he had achieved nothing. A knot of doubt formed in his stomach, leaving him uncomfortable.
After Oscar leaves the club, John Bell arrived, stopping in front of Thomas Brown with a mixture of concern and respect.
—Boss, do you think you did the right thing? —Jhon asked, his voice a little hesitant—. Wouldn't it be better to hand him over to the authorities?
Brown sighed, a satisfied smile spreading across his face.
—Don't worry, John. I'm sure Oscar was very surprised by what he heard. Plus, we can solve this. We don't need useless police officers.
Jhon frowned, still uneasy.
"But... what if you don't mind us knowing that you're a fugitive?" What if it continues to cause problems? —he insisted, his concern growing with each word.
Brown crossed his arms, his gaze fixed on the horizon as if he already saw the future laid out before him.
-Don't worry. I know how to deal with these annoying guys. Right now we have the advantage. "It doesn't matter how strong he is, physically or mentally," Brown said confidently before turning to leave.
Jhon watched him walk away, a shadow of doubt crossing his face.
"I hope the boss knows what he's doing," Jhon muttered to himself, feeling the unease growing inside him.
Meanwhile, Oscar headed towards his apartment, his heart pounding in his chest. Upon entering, she searched for her bag with trembling hands, took out her cell phone and, with a deep sigh, made a call in search of answers.
—Hello, David, are you busy? —Oscar said, trying to sound casual, but his voice betrayed concern.
—Hello, Oscar. Yes, I am. "I always am," David responded with a tone that mixed tiredness and concern. But tell me, what's happening?
Oscar looked down at the ground, before asking the question that was burning in his throat.
—Michael Gray... My former representative. Do you... know anything about him? What happened to him after I hit him? —Oscar said, swallowing. His voice trembled slightly; Guilt and fear intertwined inside him.
David paused, as if he were weighing the words he was going to say.
—Why do you ask? David sighed, his voice trembling slightly.
"Just answer the damn question!" —Oscar exclaimed, his desperation and anger coming to the surface.
David swallowed, as if he were hiding something heavy that he was having trouble getting out.
—Listen, Oscar... I don't know how to tell you without it shocking you too much. I know it's complicated... but I'll tell you.
Oscar remained silent, his heart pounding as he prepared to receive the truth he feared so much.
"He's dead," David finally revealed, his words falling like a weight on Oscar.
In that moment, the world seemed to stop. Oscar was paralyzed, staring at a fixed point, unable to process what he had just heard.
"But listen to me, Oscar," David continued quickly. That wasn't your fault. Sometimes anger takes over us. Besides, Michael Gray wasn't such a good person...
David's words echoed in Oscar's mind like a distant echo. The mixture of relief and guilt drowned him.
—Why didn't you tell me before? —Oscar asked in a deep voice, feeling an internal storm beginning to form inside him.
David was silent for a moment, searching for the right words.
—Because I wanted to protect you... I didn't know how you would react. And the truth is hard, plus with all this about moving to another city and telling you that your former representative died... it would be too heavy. I confess that I haven't found out for long. —He answered honestly.
Oscar dropped his phone to the floor, the sound of the impact echoing through his room. He knew the magnitude of what that meant to him.
—Hello, Oscar? Are you there? David asked, his voice sounding distant through the fog of Oscar's thoughts.
He sat on his bed, feeling the weight of the world on his shoulders. Thousands of images began to flood his mind like an unstoppable torrent.
He remembered his hands covered in blood, striking Michael's face again and again, each blow echoing with anger and regret. Then, Miranda appeared in his thoughts, her face full of worry and confusion.
Each image was a painful flash. Memories of him reading the Bible, searching for answers in the midst of the chaos around him. Questions burned in his mind: Should I continue with this? Should I help Miranda? Disappointment towards God consumed him; I felt like I had failed at everything.
—Should I give up and not get involved in any problem anymore? —he whispered to himself, feeling hopelessness creep in.
Or worse yet... should I stop fighting forever?
The thought made his stomach clench. The fights were a part of him, but so was the guilt and pain he now felt. He wondered if there was a way out or if he was trapped in a cycle he couldn't escape.
The fact of having murdered a man was a reality that Oscar could not believe. Every time he thought about it, he felt like he was watching someone else from a distance, like that person wasn't him. Doubt gnawed at his soul.
While his mind was filled with questions and doubts about his own identity—Who was Oscar really? A monster or a victim of his circumstances?
Oscar felt trapped in a labyrinth of dark thoughts. How could I move on after something like that? The images of the moment of the crime came back to haunt him: the panic, the anger, the loss of control. Was that what you really wanted to be? He wondered if there was any form of redemption or if he was destined to live with this weight for the rest of his life.
But while Oscar was asking himself thousands of questions, trapped in an identity crisis that was tearing him apart, trying to find a way out of his despair, Thomas Brown moved towards his next destination with relentless determination.