Chapter 163
Bob stared at the tightly shut door, listening as the footsteps outside completely faded away. He knew this was his last chance.
He took a deep breath, as if summoning every ounce of strength in his body, and made a move that even made Barton raise an eyebrow slightly.
He stepped forward, his knees buckled, and he dropped straight down to kneel before Barton.
"Barton," Bob looked up, the anger on his face gone, replaced by raw fear and pleading that seemed ready to spill over.
His voice choked with emotion, "Please, Barton, for the sake of all the years we've worked together, just listen to me…"
He grabbed Barton's pant leg, gripping so hard his knuckles turned white, "We really, really need to let Isabella go! Right now! Before Vitale completely loses it, before he finds us here!"
He spoke quickly, afraid of being cut off, throwing out what he thought was the safest plan, "I'll use my private plane! I'll arrange it myself! We'll get her out without anyone knowing! Take her to Aetheria! Or Solstice! Anywhere!"
"I promise! I swear! She'll never show up in Thalassia again, and she won't cause any trouble for you!"
A flicker of desperate hope shone in Bob's eyes, "If Vitale comes after us, he'll only track my plane, my movements. He won't find you guys."
"Your base, your plans, they'll all be safe. Barton, you know me. I'm not a good guy, but I keep my word."
"I don't beg often. I've never knelt and begged anyone in my life like this."
"You should understand how I feel. I'm truly scared. Vitale isn't like the people we've dealt with before!"
Barton stayed silent.
He looked down at Bob, who knelt at his feet, a pitiful mess, like a stray dog with nowhere to go.
A complicated emotion flashed across Barton's face.
There was surprise, and maybe a tiny hint of pity that was hard to notice.
But mostly, it was a cold, calculated look.
Barton did understand Bob's fear.
That man named Vitale—though Barton had never met him in person, the stories about him had long spread through the underworld.
A young man who survived the brutal power struggles within a mafia family and rose to the top.
A genius who, in just a few years, managed to blend the bloody family business with a shiny, legitimate corporate empire.
A ruthless, decisive leader with a sharp mind, fiercely protective of those close to him.
Even now, when Vitale appeared more as a successful businessman in the public eye, running the massive Tyson Group, his influence in the dark world never waned.
No one dared to underestimate him, and no one wanted to provoke him on purpose.
Because the fate of anyone who tried to challenge his authority was a clear warning, buried in the shadows of Thalassia's history.
Barton remembered clearly. Not long ago, a middleman and loan shark boss named Blake thought he had dirt on one of Vitale's shady deals. He tried to blackmail him for a quick payday, even dreaming of taking over that profitable line of business.
At the negotiation table, Blake thought he had the upper hand, smug and full of himself.
And the result?
The next second, Vitale's men wiped out all of Blake's underground gambling dens and loan shark operations in the south of the city. Clean, fast, no messing around.
This kind of brutal efficiency, this unpredictable way of handling things, made everyone who knew the story wary of Vitale.
And based on all the intel they'd gathered about him, the only thing that could make him show a crack, lose control, or drop that icy, rational mask for a moment…
Seemed to be that woman named Isabella.
That's why, after accidentally capturing Isabella, Barton wasn't as regretful deep down as he pretended to be.
This might be trouble, but it was also a chance—a very special card to play.
Marco had once told him meaningfully, "Don't mess with Vitale lightly. But if you do, remember, don't let him go easily. Either don't make a move, or make sure you have a way to stop him from ever being a threat again."
Barton didn't fully get the second part back then, but now, with Isabella in their hands, he started to understand.
Holding Isabella was like holding the reins to Vitale.
Sure, this beast might go into a rage because of it, but at least you had something to make him pause for a moment.
If Vitale really came after them, this card might be the only thing that could get Barton and his crew out of this alive.
Let Isabella go?
That would be like cutting off their own arm, handing all the power back to an enraged predator.
What would they have to face Vitale's inevitable, bloody retaliation with then?
Thinking of this, the last trace of hesitation in Barton's eyes vanished.
He let out a sigh, the sound heavy in the quiet room.
He bent down, reached out with both hands, and gripped Bob's arms.
"Get up, Bob," Barton said, pulling him up from the ground.
Bob stumbled, barely able to stand. His face was still streaked with tears and dirt, his eyes blank as he stared at Barton.
"Sorry," Barton looked at him, his tone sincere but carrying a firm rejection, "I really can't agree to this."
The glimmer of hope in Bob's eyes went out instantly, replaced by deeper despair and confusion.
"Why?" he asked hoarsely, almost dropping to his knees again, "Do you want to die that badly, Barton? We're all going to die!"
"Because I've got a crew," Barton's voice grew heavy, carrying the weight of a leader's responsibility and resolve, "They've been caught by Vitale. I don't know if they're alive or dead, or if they're being tortured right now. They've followed me through life and death. I can't abandon them."
"So, I've already sent the video to Vitale," Barton said calmly, as if stating something trivial.
"What?" Bob looked like he'd been struck by lightning. He lunged toward Barton, his voice warped with shock and anger, "What video? When did you send it? Why didn't I know about this?"
Barton slowly turned around, a puzzled look on his face, as if he was genuinely trying to remember.
"The video? You know, the little clip of Ms. Lorraine begging Vitale to come save her."
"Didn't I tell you?" He frowned, tapping his forehead, "That's odd. I'm sure I mentioned it to you. After all, you're the big money behind this operation. How could I not tell you something so important?"
His fake innocent look, even with a hint of apology, chilled Bob more than any outright threat could.
In that moment, Bob understood.
Barton did this on purpose.
He deliberately kept it from him, acting first and reporting later.
He wanted to tie Bob completely to this sinking ship, doomed to crash into an iceberg.
"You did this on purpose!" Bob trembled with rage, pointing at Barton's face, "You're trying to get me killed! You want to drag me down with you! Barton, I misjudged you!"
Facing Bob's accusations, the confusion on Barton's face disappeared, replaced by that calm expression again.
"Of course not, Bob," Barton's tone was almost gentle, "Why would I want to get you killed? We've worked together for so many years, and it's always been good."
He walked over to Bob, gently pushing down the hand pointing at him, the gesture almost comforting.
"But I really can't let her go," Barton said, looking into Bob's bloodshot eyes, speaking word by word, "The plan has to go on. It's the Father's orders, and it's to save my crew."
He paused, giving Bob a moment to process, then added in a serious tone, "As for your family, Bob, I promise I'll arrange reliable people to protect them in secret."
"I'll have them moved to a safe place, far from Thalassia, until all of this blows over. Is that okay? It's the only thing I can do for you."
Bob stared at him blankly, opening his mouth but finding no words to say.
Anger, fear, despair, the cold sting of betrayal…
All these emotions churned in his chest, finally turning into a numb, dead silence.
Bob knew he had no way out.
The video was sent. Vitale's rage had been fully ignited.
Even if he wanted to back out now, it was already too late.
Barton, or rather Marco behind Barton, had used the cruelest way to nail him to this ship.
Living together might not be possible.
But dying together, it seemed, was already set in stone.