Escaping The Mafia King

Chapter 44: 44- Face Off

"Report," Varys barked at the phone in his car.

Fuzzy static answered him.

"Report!" Vary tried again.

His first wave wouldn't stay quiet like this. Ethan had managed to take them out. He hadn't expected that. His men weren't the type to be taken out easily. Maybe he should have given Hope's worries more credence, then again, she hadn't seen what he was truly capable of yet.

He hung up the phone as he pulled on the street leading to the coffee shop. Smoke spiraled lazily in the air as flames lit the night sky a shade of orange.

Fuck.

Varys parked the car and edged closer. Maybe he was wrong. Maybe it wasn't the shop.

Even he knew that was wishful thinking. As he got closer the smoked coffee beans turned to a burnt one and he crinkled his nose. The doors of the shop were thrown open off their hinges, the good splintered and the glass smashed. In fact, every pane of glass was smashed and scattered to the ground.

It crackled beneath his foot as he stepped through the doorway. If the outside was bad, the inside was worse. The men that came through made sure that they destroyed everything they could get their grubby mitts on. Chairs were broken in half, tables broken in pieces. Even the counter had a sledgehammer taken to it and the marble that decorated it lay in large patches on the floor.

Varys paused as he found the entrance to the PI's business. One of his men was slouched across a table, with a sizable hole through his head. Fuck, Ethan was serious. He didn't care what enemies he made as long as he got to hope.

But Varys would never let that asshole near her again. Where were the rest of his men? He'd sent far more than just one. But how many had Ethan sent for this type of chaos? NôvelDrama.Org owns © this.

As he got through the doorway, he saw more of men, or at least pieces of them. An explosive had to have gone off to account for this level of damage. The question was, was the wielder alive? He moved with cautious steps as he scanned every inch.

Did they even have time to set up traps? He didn't know, but he wasn't risking it. He got into the PI's office and froze. He didn't recognize the woman, but he couldn't help the surge of pity that welled through him. With her curly-red-hair and staring green eyes. She sat propped up against the wall like a doll, a doll with bullet holes riddling her body.

No sign of Max or Vincent yet. It was only a matter of time, he had no doubt he'd find them in this hell- hole, or signs of them anyway. He doubted that Ethan would bother taking them away from here. Not when it was such a good lure spot.

The only area untouched was Max's office, according to the pristine plaque beside it. Though everything else in the building was burned to charcoal. As he got closer, Varys noted what happened to the rest of his men. He was walking through their remains.

Varys reached out to the door as he prepared himself. At his touch it swung open. On the far side of the wall there were two chairs. The two men he assumed to be the ones he was searching for considering they were both alive, and imprisoned.

"Nice of you to join us, Varys," the chair spun and Ethan smiled at him. "We've been waiting a very long time for you."

"Boss," grunted a voice from the floor.

Varys glanced down and winced. One of his best was bleeding out, just inches away, and there was nothing he could do for him. Based on the amount of blood and the size of the wound? His fight was over. "You did good," he nodded to the man.

A ghost of a smile crossed tired lips before he slumped over.

"You left him with a lie? He did good? That's the one that made it so easy for me to get as far as I did."

"He gave his life for me, I have to at least acknowledge that. Besides, you would have found another way to get this far."

"If that's the best you can do, Varys, you won't be able to stop me. I'll have Hope back where she belongs by the end of the day."

Max grunted and struggled against his bonds, and the knife that was plunged into his shoulder. "You two shit-heads don't get it."

Varys and Ethan glanced over at this. "You're not smart," Ethan pointed out. I've already nailed you like a pig to the wall, and you're still bleating, and insulting me while you're at it? You're going to die, why make it faster?" He chuckled, ah maybe you're trying to save Hope the pain. That's never going to happen. I'm going to lap at her tears like they're my salvation."

"Sick fuck," Max spat. "And I thought Varys was bad. No matter what you do to her, no matter how you try to force her, Hope is strong. She's going to make her own decisions. And neither of you can force her to love you if she doesn't."

"That's what you think. I know exactly how to get Hope to do exactly what I want her to do. She's been my lapdog for years, and she's going to go right back to that position. With you both killed in front of her, I'll break her completely. She'll never try to defy me again. I suppose I should thank you for that."

"Like hell you are," Max growled as he struggled even more. His chair's leg squeaked as it ground against the floor.

"You're never going to have Hope even have to see your ugly face again," Varys said with a smile. "It's over, Ethan. I'm going to make you pay for every single time you ever laid a finger on her."

"This is the fun part, boys. You see, Hope will go to me willingly. Even after I've slaughtered both of you in front of her, even if I force her to bathe in your blood, she'll be mine, and she'll always be mine. And why is that? Simple." Ethan grinned. "Because I have her best friend in the world, and Stella will suffer such glorious pain if she doesn't give herself up. And you both know Hope's softness."

Fuck.

Varys' first clenched again. Ethan was right. If he let Stella die, she'd never get over it, and especially if it was by Ethan's hand. "Talk, but you're not going to win this, Ethan."

The other man smirked. "We'll see, Varys, we'll see."