"Daddy, you are a superhero."
Those words from the child echoed in Roberto's mind. His heart grew heavy every time he remembered that stake, and coupled with the promise he made to the boy, the guilt weighed even more.
They had already reached a nearby town; Roberto was sure of one thing, and that was that Dylan was close. He didn't know how, but he had the certainty that it was so.
"Dylan has a connection with his Evos, doesn't he?" Elizabeth recalled intently.
Her argument floated for a few seconds in the air until, finally, Tinki, the pink Evo, deigned to respond.
"Yes," her voice sounded regretful. "We have it."
Surely that was because it would have helped find Dylan faster, but would he even be alive?
What if his child died? No, that idea was discarded with a sharp stab of hatred and rage; he shouldn't think that.
After the meeting at the inn's table, Roberto entered the room he shared with his wife, who was already lying on the sofa.
Her eyes, red from so much crying, stared lost at the ceiling. Without wasting time, another tear fell.
"Oh, come on, dear, don't be like that."
Roberto's consolation was useless, almost invisible, because Tray continued crying, only now clinging to the wolf's chest.
Once his wife calmed down, Roberto went out to get some fresh air.
The night was cold, like all the ones in which he went out to kill. His work had given him free time, since the missions had ceased and vanished.
It was difficult to assimilate the moment in which he watched a black light cover his son, only to then see the man responsible escape.
Rage made Roberto grind his teeth while he clenched his fists. What was his father planning? He was 100% sure that old man was behind it.
Lisa, his son's girlfriend, was also doing badly, or so she said.
"She's lying..."
Only he and his wife felt concern.
Only he understood Dylan.
Only he felt guilt...
He looked at the sky one more time and, sighing, said:
"I love you, champ."
Something he hadn't said to the boy in a long time. Roberto took out a cigarette and put it to his mouth.
Maybe it wasn't the right moment to return to that habit, but what would help him shoulder this guilt?
What guilt?
The guilt of not saving his son...