The Marvelous Ethan Cole

Chapter 7

The words hung in the air.

“You're nobody,” Daniel continued, his voice rising now, desperate. “You're a line cook. You're a failure. You come from a family of failures. Your grandfather was a failure, your father was a failure, and you're the worst of all of them because you actually thought you could be something more.” He pointed at Victoria. 

“She's a Hargrove. She's worth more than your entire bloodline combined. And you—” he jabbed a finger at Ethan's chest, “—you're nothing. You're less than nothing. You're a dog. You should be sleeping in a doghouse, not sitting at her table.”

Ethan looked at him for a long moment.

Then he said, “Are you finished?”

Daniel opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again. “What?”

“Are you finished,” Ethan repeated, “or do you have more to say?”

Daniel's face twisted. "I can say whatever I want. I can do whatever I want. You can't stop me. You're nothing. You're—"

He swung.

It wasn't a good punch. His form was wrong, his balance off, his whole body telegraphing the motion before his fist even started moving. But he swung anyway, putting everything he had into it, aiming for Ethan's face.

Ethan caught his wrist mid-air.

Daniel's forward motion stopped completely. His whole body jerked to a halt like he'd hit an invisible wall.

Ethan held his wrist with one hand, not squeezing, not doing anything, just holding it. Daniel pulled. He pulled hard, his whole body straining backward, his feet sliding slightly on the polished floor.

He couldn't move his arm.

“Let go!” Daniel's voice climbed higher. “Let go of me!”

Ethan looked at him. “Who do you think you are,” he said quietly, “acting so brazenly in front of me?”

Then he let go.

Daniel stumbled backward, catching himself on the edge of the table. His wrist was red where Ethan had been holding it but otherwise unmarked. He stared at Ethan, his chest heaving, his eyes wide.

“You—” he started.

Ethan moved.

One moment he was standing several feet away. The next he was directly in front of Daniel, close enough that Daniel could feel the heat coming off him, close enough to see the faint glow behind his eyes that hadn't been there a second ago.

Daniel opened his mouth to scream.

Nothing came out.

Ethan raised one hand and placed it flat against Daniel's chest, not pushing, just resting it there. Daniel's whole body went rigid. His eyes rolled back slightly. His mouth opened wider but still no sound came.

“You tried to kill me tonight,” Ethan said softly. 

“You sent four men. And now I'm here.” He leaned in slightly. 

“Do you understand what that means?”

Daniel couldn't move. Couldn't speak. Couldn't do anything except stand there, frozen, his whole body locked in place by nothing more than a hand on his chest.

“It means,” Ethan continued, “that I am not the man you thought I was. It means that everything you believed about me was wrong. And it means that from this moment forward, you are going to spend every waking second of your life afraid that I might come back.”

He pulled his hand away.

Daniel collapsed.

He didn't fall. He just dropped straight down, his legs giving out completely, and he landed hard on his knees, gasping, clutching at his chest, trying to pull air into his lungs. His whole body was shaking.

Ethan looked down at him for a moment.

Then he looked up.

Victoria was staring at him, her face pale, her hands covering her mouth.

Richard had backed up several steps, his face twisted somewhere between shock and rage.

The rest of the room was completely silent.

Ethan straightened his shirt, or what was left of it, and looked around slowly.

However before could even caught his breath Ethan landed a slap across his face.

“Slap!!”