From Nothing To The Name They Fear

Chp 7: Confusion

"Boss, the job was carried out neat and clean. Trust us, no cause for alarm," answered a tall, broad-shouldered man with a deep, gruff voice.

"Then what the hell is going on?!" Jason roared, pushing himself from the chair as his eyes burned venomously into the man.

Before him in the room were three rugged, dangerous-looking men. The air filled with the smell of drugs and alcohol.

The one with a snake tattoo coiled around his neck, who appeared to be their leader, took a slow drag from his wrapped substance, his gaze calm and unreadable. "Young master, you saw the evidence we sent. What else troubles you? Or you got another assignment for us?"

"Don’t feed me that nonsense!" Jason shouted, frustration clipped to his voice. "Then tell me, how the hell do you explain this that was sent to me a few minutes ago?"

He thrust his phone toward them, the screen glowing with an image.

The photo showed Drakon, very much alive, standing before an old-looking building.

"This was taken this afternoon. Or are you going to tell me that his ghost is back from hell?"

The three muscular men froze, their focus glued to the screen.

Unbelievable!

"This… this can’t be," one of them muttered in shock.

Thud!

Jason kicked the chair beside him, the violent crack echoing through the room. His eyes were bloodshot, his voice like a growl. "No! Look at it yourself. Is that not the man you told me was dead?"

"Impossible!" the leader exclaimed, finally breaking his calm composure as he leaned forward to study the photo.

"We left him at death’s door with life-threatening injuries. Even if he somehow survived, he shouldn’t be standing healthy… and yet look at him, not a scar, not a trace of injury on him — he looks perfectly healthy."

"Young master, this picture must be fake. It can’t be—"

Before he could finish, Jason spun and seized him by the collar, slamming him hard against the wall.

His voice exploded with rage. "Fake?! The person who sent me this cannot lie to me. And here you stand spewing excuses after I paid you handsomely for the job?!"

The leader did not flinch under Jason’s rage. He remained completely relaxed and allowed Jason to do whatever he wanted. He knew Jason was not a man he could afford to provoke.

"Wolfie," he said coolly, puffing smoke from his mouth. "Pass me the phone."

One of the men immediately pulled a phone from his pocket and handed it over.

"Young master," the leader said, offering it to him, "this is the other proof. The very phone you instructed us to retrieve."

The moment he heard that, Jason’s grip loosened on him as he looked at the phone with bloodstains on it.

He accepted it slowly, his hand trembling as though he was seeing a nightmare.

He stared at the device in disbelief, confusion written all over his face.

It was real. So was the picture sent to him earlier.

Which was he supposed to believe now?

Was Drakon truly dead or alive?

"What is going on?" his voice dropped to a whisper.

The three men exchanged puzzled glances. They too were at a loss, staring at the image of the man who should not exist anymore.

There was no mistaking it. This was the same man they took out yesterday — the Drakon who shouldn't even be breathing anymore.

No one could survive that kind of near-death situation, not even with emergency aid. No hospital, no matter how advanced, could heal someone that fast, not in just a few hours.

Yet in the photo he was standing, alive and healthy with no scratch.

How was this possible?

The air turned heavy, invisibly thick with unexplainable confusion and tension.

Jason's mind spun with disbelief and confusion. The situation toying with his brain.

"This can’t be real," he whispered to himself. "That bastard..."

A deep voice cut through the silence beside him.

"Young master, what if the person in the picture isn’t him?"

Jason turned slowly toward the speaker, his eyes sharp and cold like a predator ready to pounce on his prey.

"Give it back," he said, his tone icy.

Without a word, the leader handed back the phone, only looking at Jason with unknown thoughts running through his head — clearly a disturbing one that he couldn't hide.

"This better be a misunderstanding…" Jason said, his gaze sweeping across the three of them.

His voice went low, now changed to a threatening one. "Because if I find out you failed to kill that son of a bitch…"

He stepped closer, his eyes flashing with menace.

"Trust me, I will make you regret ever messing with me, Jason Thorne."

Before any of them could respond, Jason turned and stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

The threat he left behind made the tension spike like electricity in the air.

"Fuck!" growled the one nicknamed Wolfie, slamming his fist against the table.

The leader remained calm, puffing slowly on his drugs, deep in thought.

"Damn that spoiled rich brat!" the other paced slowly, his boots tapping against the floor like a ticking time bomb. "How dare he threaten us, the Three Bloody Musketeers?"

"What now, big brother?" Wolfie asked.

The leader repeated slowly, "What now?"

Then he smirked, deadly calm.

"We wait. Let him confirm it first. Since when have we ever cowered at threats?"

His eyes gleamed with something dangerous.

The Three Bloody Musketeers were actually blood brothers and one of the most feared gangs in the city, known for brutal torture before killing their victims in hellish pain.

They worked in the shadows, taking out targets for high-profile clients as long as the pay was awesome.

Even the police have no way to put them behind bars. They always somehow clear every evidence, no single trace linking back to them.

"But seriously," one of them muttered. "How the hell is he still alive?"

"I don’t know," the leader said. "It shouldn’t be possible. But we’ll stay low-key for now until everything is cleared and settled."

"And if he is alive?"

The leader’s smile vanished.

"Then we strike again. And this time, no mercy. We finish him till his last breath before we retreat."

He turned to Wolfie.

"Call our informants. I want eyes on everything, secretly. We will find out what the hell is going on."

"And for Jason Thorne?" the leader smirked. "Let him bark. If he tries anything funny, he better be ready to dance to our tune..”