Scarface Novels & Stories

Then a shape blocks my path: Scarface, flanked by the same two betas from before, all three grinning as if they’ve caught a fox in the henhouse. “Strays don’t serve themselves here,” Scarface says, loud enough to echo. The silence that falls is dense as concrete. I pause, bowl in hand, and look up at him. He’s close—too close for comfort, far enough that if I made a run for it, he could take me down in a single stride. “Is that the rule?” I say, as neutral as I can manage. My voice comes out steadier than I expect, edged in something colder than anger.

He halted in front of a diner and crossed the road to the other side. There would be an allewway there which led to a dead end. But he didn't know that his life was also on target. He stopped at the sight of three goons "Well, well. If it isn't the douchebag Franklin Walker," the man said, brandishing the bat in his hand. "Who are you?" Franklin asked. "I'm a chill guy," Scarface replied. "You all clearly don't know who you're messing with," Franklin said. "Why don't you tell us?"

He gave me a short, curt smile and my cheeks flared into a flush. He was distractingly handsome. Those sharp black eyes, like the eyes of a haunting doll… And his mouth… His lips were thin and looked really edible, like something you could swallow whole. I shook the thought. I had to leave. I’d already been wrong too many times. “Mr. Scarpa is considerate. Thank you, and him,” I told the man at the door before stepping out. And as I walked away, I knew that I would trust Mr. Scarpa.

The call from Mikey came first: “Boss, Mateo’s gone. And the girl, too.” Giordano crushed his cigar against the side of the marble ashtray. “You’re useless.” A knock. “Scarface is here.” Giordano rolled his eyes. “Finally.” He tossed the phone. “Scarface!” he bellowed. Scarface limped toward him, clothes torn, one arm bloodied. He reeked of panic and sweat. “Jesus Christ,” Giordano muttered, “you look like you fucked a blender.” Scarface dropped the duffel bag in front of him. It hit with a satisfying thud.

Say it." "What...what?" "I'm not stupid, Scarface. You're leaving out a very important detail, and it's the key to everything." "How did—I mean, what the hell do you think you're saying, you bitch?" Sigh... What was with this guy and the word "bitch"? It seemed he didn't have any manners at all. In one swift movement, I let my blade graze his face, leaving another scar on his right cheek. "Looks perfect. Now the scars are properly even. Are you going to tell me now?"

One of the men asked, Spade just faced him, putting all his attention on the man, he was at least 30 years old, he had a very unfriendly face, with tattoos that ran from his neck down to the rest of his body, his name was Nico. "Does it mean we're going to war with the Americans"? Another asked making Spade to shift his attention from Nico to him. Spade didn't know this one's name but he would recognize him anywhere, he was dark, he had this ruggedy hood boy look, he had a durag on his head. Most of them weren't even Italian, some were more Americans than Italians but they proved themselves countless times to him, they proved they could be trusted, and some had even gone as far as proving th

Zev’s POV The whip slices me open and a warm trickle of blood cuts a path down my half healed back. The shackles hold me tight to the large, hard wood pole. My arms don’t reach around the huge parameter of the tree so chains stretch the distance between my wrists. My nails have been ripped from my fingers, left behind in the wood where I claw at it in agony. Three days I have been held captive by the Alpha know as Scarface. His name an apt depiction of the huge, gnarly scar the runs the length of his face. Blind in one eye with the colour gone from his iris. A blank, sightless orb lies in his face like the moon in the dark night sky.

Once you find out where the kidnapper is, make sure you keep Fiona safe and shoot him! “Yes!” Inside the warehouse, Scarface angrily toyed with the butterfly knife in his hand. "It pisses me off! This is sheer hubris! I have never been so threatened by the object of extortion in all the lives I have committed!" "This woman, who is this woman?" Big beard waved his hand: "I think we should calm down first and wait and see." Someone who dares to be so arrogant, maybe there really is something remarkable about it --" Baaaah!

Scarface? The path is too dark and we're standing too far apart to see if the words are said with a smile or a grimace, but I'm thankful for it anyway because he can't see the way my cheeks heat at the truth of his words. I may not have made him out to be a cartoon character but I definitely expected a 1920s Italian mobster. "You have my money, yes?" he asks looking at the large tote bag swinging from my arm.

I begin conjuring my magic in preparation for the fight. I look over at our new arrivals and assess them. One of the ghouls has a medium frame with a buzz cut . The other one is probably close to six feet, short brown hair, and has a thick red scar running from his cheek to his chin. They scan the crowd and their eyes land on Kieran. “Just the man we’ve been looking for!” Scarface says as they begin strolling towards us. The patrons standing in their path quickly move before they get trampled.