Page 86 of The Chameleon

It appeared that Massimo had exploited Ares’s weakness once again. This time, using the man who he loved—Matteo—to distract him.

Ares had dropped his guard, leaving himself exposed and vulnerable.

Angry at his failed attempt at eliminating his competition, Massimo spent the next several years trying to locate and kill Ares. But by then, Ares had amassed enough wealth and power to make it virtually impossible for Massimo to get anywhere near him.

Smart man having Ares come to him instead.

Slowly, Ares turned to face his nemesis.

“So, I take it this location was also your idea?” Ares asked.

Massimo nodded. “I knew that you would bring an army with you. So I figured I would keep them all distracted with that little trafficking scheme we got going on outside. I knew that you would order your men to rescue those people while you came in here… alone… searching for your…puttana.”

Hearing Massimo refer to Matteo as a “whore” in Italian made Ares’s blood boil. How dare thisgeriatric fuckheadtalk so disrespectfully about his man.

“You’re a hard man to get to. And it took me a very long time to find the one thing that could take you down.”

Ares glanced back at Matteo.

The walls were coming down all around him. Everything he had spent his life hiding and protecting was now being brought forward and about to be revealed.

Attachments were a weakness. Love could be exploited. Family was a liability.

Ares has spent so many years carefully crafting the perfect image. The perfect persona. One that inspired fear and loyalty. Now, with all his secrets being exposed, Ares could feel his power, his control… slipping away.

He needed to act now while he still had a chance.

“Don’t worry, Matté. We’ll get out of here in no time. There’s a reason that this man is no longer relevant,” Ares goaded, smirking as he made eye contact with the man in his seventies. “Last I checked, all your former territory now belongs to…me.” Ares shrugged his shoulders as if the information didn’t matter to him.

The man was no longer relevant and even he knew that. This was a last-ditch effort to fuck over the man who had taken so much from him over the years. Italians and their pride. They will spend a lifetime seeking revenge, even if it’s the last act they ever commit.

“Isn’t that right…Massimo?”

Snarling, Massimo ground his teeth and glared at Ares.

“Oh, wait. Sorry, I was wrong. You still hold Sicily. That was my gift to you. I didn’t want to take your home… your livelihood, from you. I figured that wasn’t nice to do to an old man, especially in his sunset years. I figured I’d let you ride out the last of your days here, keepsomeof your dignity, then once you finally kick the bucket, I’d swoop in here and take the last of your territory as well.”

Ares gave the man the cockiest smirk he could muster. Even if the guy were to shoot him in the face right now, he would still die a happy man.

Massimo was seething.

After the attempt on his life, Ares spent the following years ripping each and every territory that the Zitti family owned away from them. The war was bloody and raged on for years. Ares hijacked smuggling routes, using pirates to steal Massino’s cargo, making Massimo look unreliable and incompetent. Ares arranged attacks on Massimo’s men, giving rise to rumors that the Zitti family could no longer protect its crew. Those dumb enough to attempt to stand up to Ares were made examples of in the most horrific acts of violence. Those were the years that earned Ares the reputation that he currently held.

Now, Ares controlled a third of the world’s gun smuggling trade. Given his extensive connections, he also dabbled in a bit of the drug trade, helping the O’Brien crew in New Jersey and a few other gangs he supplied guns to move product or open channels that they might not have been able to access had they not known Ares. But in the end, Ares’s main bread and butter were guns.

Pain exploded in Ares’s jaw. He stumbled backward, dropping to one knee before realizing that the fucker had whacked him in the face with the butt of his gun.

What fucking pussy does that?!

Ares was pissed.

He spit blood out of his mouth and watched as his DNA stained the concrete. He would have to burn this place down before he left. There couldn’t be any traces of his DNA left behind at this massacre scene.

Oh yes, there was going to be a glorious murdering rampage!

Laughing, Ares wiped his lip, then stood. He brushed his hair back away from his eyes, being sure to take his time to breathe. He needed to stay in control of his emotions.

Emotions led to anger, and anger led to mistakes. And Ares didn’t make mistakes. This was why he had stayed off the authorities’ radars for so long. He was calm and calculating. Never acting on impulse or out of anger or frustration.

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