All Chapters of From Street Rat To Mafia Boss : Chapter 341
- Chapter 350
383 chapters
Smell of Trap
They sat across from each other, the two steaks between them suddenly feeling like a ridiculous prop in a darker play. Dane watched Zion’s hands, then the men in the corner, then Zion again. The sulfur smell clung to his nose like a warning.Could Zion be working with those men? Dane’s mind raced. He forced his fork into the steak, then, on impulse, slammed it down and slid forward. “So you’re not going to talk?” he said, voice low. “Did someone send you?”Zion blinked, eyes widening. “What are you talking about, man? No one sent me. I just wanted to talk—it’s been a long time.”Dane didn’t believe him. He moved his hand faster than Zion could react, grabbed the dinner knife from the table and pressed its tip to Zion’s throat. The metal was cold. Around them the café noise dimmed; a couple a few tables over froze mid-sentence.“Stop this!” a female diner hissed. The waitress, alarmed, stepped back and fumbled for her phone.“Hey—hey!” someone called toward the entrance as two security
The Message
The three men in suits at the back stood at once, their chairs scraping against the tile. Without a word, they walked out of the café and slid into a black sedan waiting by the curb.Zion’s eyes darted toward the door, then back to Dane. “Okay,” he said, voice shaky. “The truth is… yes, they gave me money to reach out to you. Nothing more. I swear. But I also wanted to see you. We haven’t met in a long time.”Dane’s jaw tightened. “Can I take your word on that? Because if that were true, you wouldn’t have lied.”Dane continued as he leaned closer. “If you or the people who sent you wanted to know about my past, you could have asked when I joined the mafia. You would already know everything about me. So tell me…” He dropped his voice. “Do you recognize this name? Do you work for the Coin Flipper?”Zion’s eyes went wide. “What do you mean? Coin Flipper? I don’t know who that is. What the hell is that?” His voice trembled.It looked like a lie. Dane’s knuckles whitened on the knife.“I’m
Too Quiet
Dane slid back into the café, his expression cold but composed. The knife clinked softly as he set it back on the table. Eyes were on him—customers whispering, staring. He raised his hands slightly in apology.“Sorry. Sorry about that,” he said, forcing a calm smile before walking over to the counter.The waitress froze as he approached, still shaken. He reached into his pocket, pulled out a thick roll of cash, and peeled off a stack.“Here. Take a thousand.”She blinked, hesitated, and began fumbling for change.“No,” Dane cut in, pushing her hand back gently. “Keep it. That’s your tip.”Her mouth parted in shock, but before she could speak, Dane had already turned and walked out of the café.Outside, the night had grown heavier. Streetlights buzzed faintly as he approached the Rolls Royce, its sleek frame reflecting the glow of passing cars. He opened the door and slid inside.“Hey, man—what happened in there?” the driver asked cautiously, glancing at him in the rearview mirror.Dan
Cut Deeper
“Okay, fine,” Dane muttered at last, jaw tightening, shoulders shifting as if to shake off the weight of her stare. “Since you insist… I went to meet a friend. It’s been a while.”Jane’s lips curved into something between a smirk and a sneer. “A friend? You?” She let out a low laugh, sharp as glass. “That’s rich.” Her eyes gleamed, dissecting him like prey. “You’re a man of shadows, Dane. You joined Butcher’s house with nothing but the clothes on your back. No phone. No ties. No one to call your name. And suddenly, you claim to have… a friend?”The word friend dripped from her tongue like poison.Dane forced himself to keep his breathing steady.Jane took a slow step forward, arms crossed. The faint perfume on her skin clashed with the stale tang of gun oil that lingered in the hall. “Tell me—who was in the slum? Who’s this mysterious friend that could reach you when no one else could? Or is this just another one of your slick lies?”He said nothing, only shifted his weight, eyes flic
The Driver Saw
Now what should I do? Dane thought, staring at his reflection in the darkened window. The Coin Flipper’s eyes are already on me. This isn’t going to be easy. But I won’t fall. Eventually, the boss will have to learn about it… but not yet.He exhaled through his teeth. Butcher had warned him not to go out, not to meet anyone. And yet he had, thinking it would be nothing but Zion. Now everything was tangled. His fingers drummed against the windowpane, restless.He sat on the edge of the bed in nothing but his singlet, his muscles taut, sweat clinging to his skin like a sheen of guilt. The cheap ceiling fan rattled overhead. Then—Knock. Knock.Dane’s head snapped toward the door. His stomach clenched.He walked over, his bare feet whispering against the floor, and cracked it open. A young waitress stood there, eyes downcast. “What is it?” Dane asked sharply. “Any problem?”“The boss is calling you,” she murmured. “He said you should come see him in his room.”“I’ll be there,” Dane said
Cracks
“So, boss… is that all you wanted to ask me?” Dane said carefully, standing stiff near the door, his hand lingering on the knob longer than necessary.Butcher leaned back in his leather chair, a thin coil of smoke curling from his cigar. The faint glow at its tip reflected sharply in his eyes. He tapped ash into the tray, letting the silence stretch before speaking.“No,” he said finally, gravelly and deliberate. “I just wanted to remind you—don’t go outside without my permission. Are you forgetting about the Coin Flipper?”The name hit Dane like a weight. He stiffened but forced a calm nod. “No, boss. I haven’t forgotten.”He hesitated, brow furrowing. “But… it’s not like you to smoke. I thought you didn’t smoke.”Butcher’s gaze sharpened. His lips curved faintly, but it wasn’t a smile. “You’re trying to change the subject.”“No, sir—” Dane began.“It’s fine,” Butcher cut him off, waving a hand. His tone carried quiet authority, worse than anger. “I don’t know what you were doing out
Confession
“Okay,” Dane said at last, his voice low and steady, though his chest tightened with every word. “Since it already happened, I’m just going to tell you. I don’t want to lie to you, Butcher. I won’t lose your trust.”He drew a slow breath, trying to steady his nerves. “The coin flipper… I already know. He sent me a message. It was about me.”Butcher’s eyes sharpened instantly, the faint glow of his cigar casting a sharp glint across them. The room seemed to grow heavier. “How?” His voice was gravel. “Did he?”“Yes,” Dane replied. “You told me not to go out today. Your intel said they were after me, but you weren’t sure. You said it was only a rumor. But no. This wasn’t a rumor—he sent it to me. Direct. Personal.”The boss leaned forward in his leather chair, his thick fingers drumming on the armrest. “Did he give it to you personally?”“No,” Dane said. “It was through a friend.”Butcher’s brow furrowed. His gaze hardened like steel. “A friend? Whose friend? The coin flipper doesn’t hav
Flip of Fate
Dane’s jaw clenched. “But if you’re right,” he said slowly, “you told me they’re top-tier assassins. Some even more skilled than me in combat. Is that true?”Butcher didn’t blink. “Yes. It’s true. I did say that. Any problem?” His voice was calm, but the faint glow of his cigar cast a hard glint across his eyes.Dane’s frown deepened. “Isn’t that going to be tough for me? Do you even know his exact location?”Butcher leaned forward, the leather of his chair creaking. “It will be tough. Few might fight you. A few of the top-tier assassins might test you. Or maybe only one. In my sense, it might be just one—someone who wants to measure your Hydra combat strength. Because that’s the kind of man he is.”The older man tapped the edge of his cigar, ash falling into the tray. “One, it’s either he wants to take you out and kill you, but the coin is still going to decide that. Two, if he sees you fight, he might stop and ask himself: should he kill you, or should he take you as his main? He al
Snakepit
“Okay, I’ll take you up on that — and I won’t die,” Dane said, trying to steady the edge from his voice.Butcher watched him coolly for a moment, then nodded. “Good. When you come back — alive — you’ll start training. You’ve been slacking. Don’t come back thinking you’re untouchable.” He reached into a drawer and pulled out a small black box. “There’ll be cameras on you. I’ll embed a micro-camera on the suit you wear. I want eyes on that building, on his men, on his habits. If I decide to move, I need to know what I’m walking into.”Dane’s jaw tightened. The idea of walking into the coin flipper’s den with a camera sewn into his lapel felt like walking into a snakepit with a bug in his pocket. Still — it was better than blind. “No problem, boss. I won’t die. I’m not a chicken,” he said, attempting bravado that sounded thinner than he meant it to.Butcher’s smile was humorless. “Good. Don’t get cocky. The cocky ones die first.”Dane swallowed and nodded. “Understood. I’ll get dressed.”
No Exits
It’s going to be a rough day,” Dane muttered as he crossed the doorstep.He moved quickly. In his room he changed into the suit Butcher had provided, laced his leather shoes, and checked the weapons one more time. He’d learned to look the part — an important lesson the boss had drilled into him: appearances can open doors. He slid the Beretta into a jacket holster, cinched the Uzi under his suit, and tested the weight of the micro-camera pinned to the lapel. It was small, almost unnoticeable, but it felt like a second pair of eyes.When he was ready he walked back to Butcher’s office. “Sir, I’m ready,” he said.Butcher didn’t look surprised. “Good. Don’t get carried away — your life is at stake.”“Understood.” Dane swallowed and bowed his head briefly.Butcher tapped a cigarette into an ashtray and pushed a folded note across the desk. “I’ll send the location. Two hours from here. Sleazy Street.”Dane read the address and felt his pulse quicken. “Two hours. Got it.”“One more thing,”