We go back to the church even though I’m drunk as fuck and shouted at Margaret. I don’t want to be an even worse person by not fixing it even if I’m only partially capable. Besides, the cold air of the night has done me good. My vision is much less hazy than it was at the cemetery, and since I left the bottle of liquor, my head feels much clearer. Although I am expecting a raging headache any moment now.

Laura smiles at me as she helps me up the steps of the church and I open the door. However, what I see inside is not what I expected.

The altar is completely clean again with everything back where it’s supposed to be. Not an item misplaced. It’s like we were never there.

Confused, I stumble inside and gawk at the scene in front of me.

Mother appears from behind a column, and when her eyes slowly fall onto mine, this innate sense of guilt and humility wash over me.

I fall to my knees and face the floor, unable to look at her.

“I’ll … let you two talk,” Laura mumbles, and she quickly scurries toward the chapel.

I hear Mother’s footsteps approach me, but I’m frozen to the floor, bowing my head as low as I can.

“I … cannot apologize enough,” I say softly, hoping she can hear.

“Look at me.” Her stern voice can pretty much make me do anything even when I know she’s upset.

However, I never expected to see the calm in her eyes. It makes the tears well up again.

“I’m sorry …” I mutter. “For all the things I put you through since … since …”

Margaret goes to her knees and wraps her arms around me, pulling me into her embrace.

“What did I do to deserve you?” I murmur, hugging her tight.

“You don’t have to do anything, Frank. I’ll always be here. I’ll always forgive you,” she whispers, kissing the top of my head.

“I know I’ve been an incredible burden. Especially with the drinking,” I say.

“You have to stop destroying yourself, Frank. It’s the only way,” she says, making me look at her. “You have to stop and love yourself.”

I nod.

“I know you’ve been dying inside,” she mutters. “I can feel your pain every day.”

I sigh out loud as I realize what I’ve been doing to myself.

“But you have to stop now. You have to be better. And you have to love God. Trust in him to guide you even in the most difficult times,” she says, turning her head to look at the statue of Jesus. “Go pray with him.”

Inside me, a powerful current of energy directs me and forces my limbs into action, commanding me to get up and walk. And I do. I let go of Mother and let my body be drawn to the cross, an immense need to repent and do good being the driving force behind me.

It’s like I’ve suddenly seen the light.

Felt the vindication falling in my lap.

The shroud of anguish lifting to reveal a new man.

I stand tall and look up, making the sign of the cross on myself. “God, I’ve mistrusted you. I’ve blamed you for everything that happened to me. I hated you for so long. But enough is enough. I won’t live this life any longer. I won’t continue to hurt those around me for the sake of hurting myself. I’ve been punished enough. No one but You can judge me now. God, please forgive me my sins. I put my life in Your hands once again.” I draw another cross on my chest. “Amen.”

Suddenly, someone rams on the big front door and smashes it open without regard to its value. It almost comes unhinged. I turn to see what the ruckus is. Two tattooed guys wearing dirty jeans and white shirts saunter in. It’s the same guys from the bar who were looking for a fight not too long ago. One of them, the bald one, is holding a bat … the other pimply one, a gun.

“Well, hello there!” the one with the bat yells, and he smashes the pew to his left. “Long time, no see!”

Mother slaps her hand in front of her mouth, shocked and completely frozen to the floor.

“Nice church you have here,” the one with the gun says, swaying it around. “Be too bad if something were to happen to it, don’t you think?”

The more I look at them, the more I’m starting to realize they were the guys in the car at the cemetery.

Did they follow me here?

“Back for a rematch?” I ask, cocking my head.

“Oh, yeah.” One of them swings his bat again, ramming it into a pillar, and some stone flies across the room.

Grinding my teeth, I ball my fist and narrow my eyes at them. “Leave this church alone. Your fight is with me.”

“Or what?” the one with the gun asks. “You gonna slap us with your Bible?” He laughs as he approaches Mother. “Or is she gonna?”

“Stay away from her,” I growl, and I march to her, blocking her with my body to prevent them from hurting her.

The one with the gun cocks his head at me from afar, but he doesn’t move an inch.

“Go,” I whisper over my shoulder at Margaret. “Lock yourself in your room and don’t come out until I say so.”

“Yeah, go on, Granny,” the one with the bat jests, and he smashes a vase in the corner of the church to smithereens.

“Come with me. I don’t want you to get hurt,” Mother murmurs, grabbing my hand.

All this time and she’s still trying to protect me.

Now, it’s my turn.

I let go of her hand. “I won’t. I promise.” I straighten my collar and crack my neck. Behind me, Margaret slowly slips away into the back of the church, and when I hear the door lock click, I know it’s game on.

“You ready for a second round, pretty boy?” the one with the gun threatens, and he spits on the marble floor. “We’ve come prepared.”

“Do you even know where you are?” I ask, tilting my head as I roll up my sleeves.

“Fucking churches.” The one with the bat smashes another bench, breaking the wood in two.

“You’ll pay for that, you know,” I say.

He laughs. “Yeah, with what?”

The one with the gun grins and quips, “Yeah, tell us how we’re gonna pay because as far as I know … we just came to smash shit up.”

“You came to smash shit up,” I repeat, nodding a little as I casually saunter toward them. “And you chose a church. Of all places to do it.”

“You were here,” Batboy says.

“Oh, so it is me you’re after,” I retort, narrowing my eyes. “You know, we could’ve taken this outside so the church would remain intact, and done it the easy way. No one would get hurt.”

“No one?” Batboy laughs.

“Except you,” Gunboy says, laughing too.

I smile at them. “Keep saying that to yourself, and you might start to believe it. After I kick your asses into next week.”

“Ha … funny you’d say that,” Gunboy says, pointing his gun at me. “Too bad only one of us is carrying a gun.”

“Is that supposed to compensate for something smaller?” I jest, looking up and down his small frame. When I see his face contort, I grin, and he comes at me.

Guess I’ve gone and done it now.

They picked the wrong preacher to mess with, though.

Right when he’s in front of me and his gun is in reach, I push his arm aside with a flat hand. The gun goes off, and a bullet ricochets off the wall before landing on the floor. I quickly grasp his wrist and force him to drop it.

He squeals in pain, and then his buddy rushes at me with his bat out like it’s some kind of giant meat-stick.

Kicking Gunboy in his balls and then smashing his face against my knee, I push him aside and grasp the bat before it hits my face, holding him back with sheer will. I might be a little bit drunk, but that doesn’t make me weak … It only makes me more of an asshole.

I push it back so hard it smashes into his forehead, leaving him dazed.

Meanwhile, Gunboy gets up without his gun and starts punching the air, trying to hit me. I’m avoiding both easily, and I laugh while I do it.

“Too slow!” I joke, getting on their nerves.

I can tell. Their faces are bloating and turning red like a hot air balloon. Looks great.

Batboy tries again, and this time, I manage to snatch it away from him. I smack it right into his ankles, breaking one of them. He whimpers and falls to the ground, crying like a little bitch, while his tiny-dicked friend is still trying to punch me. This time, he even throws in some kicks, trying to hit me with all four limbs like he’s some kind of martial arts expert. It looks silly, to be honest.

Like they saw some shit on TV and decided they could do it themselves.

No.

Real fighting happens on the streets. You don’t learn it from a one-day course, and you certainly don’t fucking learn it from watching it on TV.

You learn it by fighting.

Day in and day out.

We don’t fight fair here. Rules don’t apply to criminals. We fight while carrying our life on our sleeves. We fight with our heart out and with death breathing down our necks.

Just like I’m doing right now.

I throw away the bat because I hate using weapons. I’d much rather use my own fists.

With one quick punch to the gut and another one between his eyes, I manage to knock him to the floor. He tries to get up again, but I know he’s dizzy because that’s exactly what that move is for. So I stomp on his belly so hard he almost throws up.

Meanwhile, Batboy’s crawling out on one leg, still whimpering like a little baby.

“Where you going?” I growl, marching toward him. I lean over and grasp him by his hair, pulling his head up. “Think you can run away?” I burst out into laughter. “Oh, wait … can’t run when your bones are crushed, can you?”

I stomp on his broken ankle, and he cries out in pain.

“Hurts, doesn’t it? You know what else hurts? Breaking shit in my damn church!” I smack his face down against the floor, hoping he bleeds.

Then I turn my attention toward his buddy, who’s attempting to flee by running past the left side of the pews. “Yeah, you run to whoever sent you. Tell him I’ll be waiting right here. And I expect payment for the destruction of property!”

“Don’t leave me!” Batboy yells at his buddy, but he ignores him.

“Aww … there goes your boyfriend,” I muse. “Must be tough seeing him give no fucks about your life.”

“Shut up!” he yells. He turns around to face me while still crawling away on his two hands like that will work.

I grab his throat with both hands, and he claws at my wrists to try to breathe properly. “Listen, you little shit, who are you and your buddy and what are you doing here?”

“Can’t breathe …” he chokes out.

“Then try harder!” I growl, getting up close with him as I sit down on top of him.

“We’re no one …”

“Of course, you’re no one, but someone sent you,” I say, squeezing harder.

He whispers, “Julio …”

The mere mention of his name makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand.

Julio. ‘El Campeón.’ The brawler. Rumor had it he killed a thousand men with his bare hands, hundreds of those with just two fingers. Of course, those are rumors … but terrifying nonetheless.

He’s also the man who killed my wife.

“Why?” I hiss back. “After everything he took from me, he’s still not done?”

He still struggles under my grasp. “Because he wants you gone.”

“Why? He would’ve done it sooner if he just wanted me gone!” I smack him harder to the floor. “Didn’t he want me to suffer? Huh? Tell me!”

He softly hisses, “You’re hanging out with his daughter.”

My eyes widen, and my gaze instantly darts to Laura, who comes out of her hiding spot behind the chapel wall. Her eyes bore into me. If only she could hear his words.

Or maybe it’s better that she doesn’t.

Laura Espino … Julio Espino’s daughter.

I can barely believe it, yet it all makes sense.

She said she was on the run. Maybe he’s tracking her. It would explain why she doesn’t want to discuss her family. And then his lackeys saw me with her, and now, he wants me dead.

Of course … because I could use her against him.

As the realization dawns, I loosen my grip on my victim, and he immediately pushes me off him, scrambling away on one foot. But I don’t care anymore. I know he won’t show up here again. He’s learned his lesson the hard way. Working for Julio and fighting me will give you broken bones, that’s what.

He scrambles while my attention focuses on Laura.

I’ve been staring at a ghost of my past this entire time, dancing with fate itself.

She’s his daughter. A girl he loves most dearly.

And it would be the world’s worst pain to him if she died.

If…

Would I ever be able to?

Am I that person? The one who wants vengeance so badly he’d even kill the only girl who gave him his spirit back?

Slowly, but surely, Laura comes walking toward me, but I’m not sure I’m prepared. The choice between good and evil is currently dividing me into pieces. I don’t want to lose her … but to see that motherfucker’s tears is my dying wish.

How do I look at her the same way without feeling that pain?

“Those guys … What did they want? Why did they trash this place?” she inquires.

Grinding my teeth, I hiss, “Please don’t …”

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t come closer.”

She frowns in confusion. “Why?”

“They were after me,” I say.

“So?” She still tries to come closer, but I take a step back. “Why are you acting this way? Just because you hurt them? I don’t care about any of that.”

“It’s not that,” I growl, taking a deep breath.

She stares at me, the flame in her eyes growing weaker. “Those guys … I knew I recognized them from somewhere.” She grabs herself like she wants to hug herself instead of me. “They work for him … but you already know that, don’t you? That’s why they were after you.”

She’s so smart. Too smart for her own good.

“My father wants you.”

“It’s complicated,” I say, swallowing away the lump in my throat.

“He must’ve found out about us.” She rubs her lips together. “He always hated seeing me with a man. And I hated his controlling urges.” She sighs. “But that doesn’t have to come between us. He can’t decide who I’m with. That’s not up to him.”

I don’t reply. I don’t know how or what I should say. She doesn’t even know the full story. The real reason for our mutual hatred.

“Can’t we—”

“Please … just leave,” I say, looking away.

“Frank …”

“I can’t,” I say. “You don’t know what you’re asking of me.”

“I know my father is an asshole, but that doesn’t mean you have to let him win and—”

“That’s not why I’m asking you to leave,” I interject, staring straight at her. Her teary eyes make me weak. Malleable. And it crushes me.

If anything could break me, she could.

“Tell me why?” she asks. “At least give me a reason.”

“You’re better off not knowing some things,” I mutter. “But right now, I really wanna be left alone.”

She grimaces. “If that’s what you want.”

It pains me to see her turn her back to me and walk out.

Not soon after, Mother approaches me from behind and places a hand on my shoulder. “She’ll be back.”

“I don’t know if I want her to come back.”

“Yes, you do. I know what you feel. I’ve seen the way you look at her.”

I glance at her over my shoulder. “She’s his daughter.”

Her lips quirk up into a soft smile. “Love knows no bounds.”

And just like that, she’s managed to completely unhinge me.

Her wise words always manage to dig deep into my skin and make me rethink my resolve.

Even if I wanted to, just to see the look on his face, I could never kill her.

Even if it means he and his men will kill me first.

But if she only knew the truth … she’d kill me herself.