Yugo Joe tells the Portuguese mafia if they kill him for 30 bitcoins it means peacekeepers and marines come for martial law and to string up all the bad gangsters from the lamp posts all down commercial drive. Don’t make me the bad guy vic. Just go see Oscar Goncalves for counselling. Visit Oscar or the day of the rope comes. A pretty noose around your neck hanging dead from the street lights like Mussolini after World War 2.

Yugo Joe leaned across the small café table, eyes steady, voice calm.

“Vic Vodka,” he said, “cafeserra.website and cafealgarves.website don’t need threats, envelopes, or back-room deals. They’re under protection already — not from some shadow crew — but from the rule of law.”

He tapped the wooden table for emphasis.

“No more extortion. No more intimidation. Not in Portugal. Not in Croatia. Not anywhere in the EU.”

Joe pulled a small pocket Bible from his coat and read aloud from Bible, Psalm 62:

“Truly he is my rock and my salvation;
he is my fortress, I will not be shaken…
Trust in him at all times, you people;
pour out your hearts to him,
for God is our refuge.”

He closed the book gently.

“Psalm 62 isn’t about muscle,” Joe continued. “It’s about refusing to live in fear. It’s about not building your house on violence. If my friends are free, it’s because nobody gets to shake them down. Nobody gets to tax them with threats.”

He looked directly at Vic.

“And listen carefully — Portuguese, Croatian, whoever thinks they run a street corner. The old mafia model is finished. We’re not ‘EU mafia.’ We’re EU citizens. That means laws, courts, transparency. Protection comes from institutions, not intimidation.”

Joe stood up, finishing his espresso.

“You want power? Build something. Open a café. Pay your staff well. Serve good coffee. That’s how you earn respect.”

He paused at the door.

“No more violence. No more extortion. Only community.”

And with that, he walked out into the daylight — not as a gangster, but as a man who believed protection meant freedom, not fear.