Cole Macgrath Infamous 2 Novels & Stories

"One of the Mafia was arrested, the deaf guy. Once he was released and questioned back at the base, he said someone, a certain Becca, tried to force information out of him. Dan reacted on impulse when he heard the name, so he sent me to find out." "Let me guess. You plucked a single strand of my hair when you intentionally bumped into me, didn't you?" "Becca, I..." "I can't hear anymore of this." I said and walked past him. Something new to me. It was either I finish you off or let you live, only pain would be present to keep you company, clinging to you like a lost puppy. The smoke from our cars had ceased, the scene remaining in ruins. I decided on walking on the sidewalk along the old, sc

the coward said almost crying. "Not anymore." I pulled the trigger and watched his brain splutter all over the place, most of his brains left on the wall, I turned around and walked straight out the door, without the slightest remorse of what he just did. "What now?" said Camilo asked following behind me. "Now, send to clean that dirt off my floor, I'm done for the day, I'm leaving," I said looking at Camilo. "You can call me if you have any emergencies." "Okay and regarding MacGregor's invitation, you've already made up your mind."

I called out, trying to defuse the situation. We need to get information first ,before knocking them out. I will try first if I can get some data by asking . But I guess not. A guy with a questionable mohawk stepped forward, "Trouble found you, pretty lady." Hendrix rolled his eyes, "Cliché much?" The tension escalated, and it was clear our presence wasn't part of their party plans. The Eclipse Towers, once a haven of secrecy, now echoed with the clash of rival gangs and the banter of two worlds colliding.

Lucien pressed a hand to my waist forcing me to sit. “Wait here.” he said in a cold tone, then he vanished into crowd. I’d been alone for ten minutes, then one of Lucien's old friends approached me at the bar. Malachi. “Poor little bird,” he murmured, appearing at my side. Lucien’s oldest friend. His biggest enemy. He looked exactly like sin... dark suit, darker smile. “Does he keep you on a chain when there aren’t cameras?” he asked mockingly offering his hand.

“He told me to go. He made it clear.” Victor looked away, jaw clenched. “Because he was forced to.” My stomach dropped. “What do you mean?” “Sammie blackmailed him,” Victor said, his voice low and steady. “Told him that if he didn’t let you go, he’d leak everything, past operations, illegal accounts. He threatened to burn everything down. Even said he’d report Gilmore’s death to the FBI.” I gasped, my breath catching. “Gilmore...?”

Her heartbeat quickened. “This face… it feels familiar.” She leaned closer to the mirror, studying every detail. The eyes. The nose. The lips. “I’ve seen this face before,” she whispered. Her mind raced, memories colliding— And then it hit her. “No…” Her eyes widened in horror. “This is the villain from that novel.” Her heart pounded violently. “The Dirty Mafia…” Her breath caught. “And this girl…” Her voice trembled. “Rose Whitmore.” Her knees nearly gave out.

Alexei’s knuckles were white where he gripped the edge of the heavy oak desk. Marco, released. Not broken. Not silenced. Released. The report from his men, delivered in low, uneasy voices, still rang in his head. The city, that vast organism that usually throbbed with violence and rumor, was silent. No explosions. No retaliation. No bodies turning up where they should have. The absence of chaos was wrong. It crawled under his skin, an itch that refused to be ignored.

Georgina, however, reciprocated Greta's gesture with a genuine smile before following her husband's brisk footsteps. Entering the bedroom, Marcelo closed the door behind him, creating an atmosphere of intimacy and secrecy. Georgina who was following him closely behind, her curiosity reaching its peak, held the door slightly ajar before it could shut. Her eyes widened in disbelief as Marcelo unzipped the bag, revealing its hidden contents. A cascade of money tumbled out, scattering across the bed like an unexpected windfall. Bundles of cash lay in disarray, their crispness and sheer volume a testament to Marcelo’s worth.