Scarface Synopsis Mga Nobela at Kwento

My parents look at each other quizzically but when I look at Alpha Eric I can see him searching his soul, if he has any. “I went through a dangerous forest where I was attacked by a beast, the origin of the scar on my face. Some people call me Scarface because of this. They may be doing so to scorn me, but the scar is a constant reminder that I fought and conquered adversity.” This is aimed at Bernice and Tiffany. Jim walks away from his place next to Drake and goes towards where Josephine is seated. I hope that she won't raise any drama. “I am most thankful to the family who rescued me from the jaws of the beast and took care of me.” I can see Benjamin acknowledging.

Christian hauled me out of the car by my chains, dragging me up the grand steps, through the shattered glass of the foyer, and straight toward the formal dining room. He kicked the doors open. The air inside reeked of copper and gunpowder. There, tied to two heavy dining chairs beneath the glittering chandelier, were my father and Beatrice. Salvatore looked almost unrecognizable. The terrifying Underboss was beaten, bloody, and reduced to a trembling old man. Beatrice was sobbing hysterically through a gag.

One of them was swollen shut and the other was almost in the same state. Sobbing, I grabbed the edge of the bandage and began to unwrap my head. When I was done, a scream tore out of my mouth and I turned to the toilet bowl at my side and threw up. I had been hideous before, with the severe burn scars and badly healed scar tissue that was my face, but now, I was truly grotesque. My hair was cut into jagged uneven strands and deep lines had been scarred into my face which was discolored, bruised and battered.

Scarface agreed, a glint of mischief in his bloodshot eyes as he signaled for the repairman who stood by the door. The repairman hurriedly walked over, handing him a napkin, which he collected, wiping driblets of Joel's blood off his knuckles. “Bring her back in, and let's talk it out without violence, huh?” Turning to Joel, Scarface let his bumpy, blotched upper lip curl up in malicious amusement as he tossed the handkerchief back to the repairman. “Get on with it.” He ordered, and the repairman disappeared through the door only to return with Bailey, who was slightly trembling.

“Didn’t know I needed to inform you.” Thin Man let out a short, ugly laugh. “That so?” He stepped forward, reaching for the baby. Karan’s grip tightened. “Careful,” he murmured. “She bites.” Scarface watched the exchange, saying nothing. Then, without warning, he turned and strode toward the stairs. Hema’s pulse spiked. No. Karan took a step forward. “You won’t find anything up there.” Scarface didn’t stop. Karan’s fingers clenched. He couldn’t act too desperate. He couldn’t stop them—if he did, they’d know.

"Wow." "That's all you got mafia man?" I asked, cocking my head in question while placing my hand on my hip. "There is no way to describe your beauty," He confessed. My cheeks burned red. Alek walked to the bottom of the stairs, holding out his hand to help me off the last step. As I stepped down, I glanced at him. How can this man scare you to your core yet is so charming and sexy? Plus passionate. He's like hard candy on the outside, but once you get to the middle, he is gooey inside.

The bite of the slap was still burning in their marrow — Samuel Blackwood slapping his own son in our presence. It had not been rage alone that silenced them. It was the knowledge of what they had witnessed: a chink in the armor of the man they followed. A chink that smelled of weakness. --- “Never thought I’d see it,” he muttered, Scarface, his scar pulling taut as he spat onto the concrete, but His voice was low, and in the cavernous space, even whispers traveled. “The boss bled. Like a whipped dog.” A few of the men were surprised. One, a tattooed, slouching smuggling thug, growled, "Watch your mouth."

On the other end, a polite, low chuckle came through. “Sir, sorry to bother you. My fiancée is young and just returned from another city. She has no connections in New York, making her an easy target. I’d like to understand what happened.” “No, no, you’re not bothering me at all!” Scarface instinctively stood up straighter. Carl’s voice remained cool, with a faint cough. “I don’t know how much you know about me, but I tend to be… quite vengeful.” Scarface’s heart nearly stopped.

"You've finally shown up after hiding for so long." I kept my expression neutral as I stealthily reached for my dagger. I smiled and said, "I didn't know you missed me that much. Want another scar on your face?" He cursed under his breath and aimed the gun at me. "Hands where I can see them. I know your tricks. You think I'd let you get near a blade?" I tossed the dagger and raised my hands. "We'll give up Drake Harbor. Let him go." Scarface touched his scars, his gaze venomous. "I want the goods, and I want the man."

I had no time to wallow in my misery when a loud thud, vibrated through the hall and several men stepped into the hall, pushing the people aside. A dark foreboding feeling settled within my gut as the men rushed in one scarier than the other wearing familiar militia clothes. Before I could figure out who they were, my stomach twisted at the sight of one—Scarface, real name Diego. I had fought and arrested him once but he had managed to escape. And now he strode with a carelessness to stand behind Lucas. Shocked, I stood frozen at his appearance, my mind whirling as they processed what was going on.