Letter of confirmation

[Stry]

She had been his. His ‘Carina’, his Ice-Queen, the mother of his unborn child. She was the one that he was going to be with for the rest of his life. When she was around, things ran smoother and things hardly ever went array. When they did, he had her to take away the pressures.

Now she was gone; and the men who took her away from him were going to pay.

A muffled cry mingled in with hurried breaths from behind the rag stuffed into the mouth of the man echoed off the walls of the dimly lit room. The chair scooted once or twice on the floor then stopped. Bound hands and feet to a chair, a rope tied around the waist, it was clear that he wasn’t going anywhere. His shirt wet with sweat and spotted with blood. The beaten and bruised head dropped forward in exhaustion. All went quiet.

Standing in front of him was the Marques del Stry. That was the name he was known by; and it was the title of his station. Little over six feet tall and in a suit that was perfectly pressed, he flexed out his fingers and redid the buttons on his sleeve, being careful to prevent any blood from his knuckles coming into contact with his clothing. A nod was given to the two men who stood guard at the door.

“Vete. Fuera de mi vista.” The Marques headed towards the door, whipping out a handkerchief to clean his hands.

"What do you want us to--"

"Drop him off with a message," he cut his men off, stopping at the door to retrieve his double-breasted sports coat from the hook. Slipping it on he popped his collar and pressed his hands down the front. "Tie it around his neck: ‘No es el fin.’”

He opened the door and stepped out and into his personal library on the lower level of his Villa. Through the door he heard music drifting down from upstairs. Checking his appearance in the mirror the Marques straightened his tie.

His guest were up there, friends they called themselves, all here to wish him well as he prepared to travel over seas. They knew that he was a businessman, and a very successful one, who often traveled to acquire goods or tend to his businesses.

"Pardon Senor but, a carrier arrived with an urgent message for you," Tall and lanky with an old grisly face, Butler Tyrone stood outside the doorway.

"Gracious. Leave it at the door." Moving from the window to head towards the door and the letter. "Tell the guest that I will be arriving soon. Kept them waiting long enough."

Picking up the letter he opened it and read the contents. Yes, it was time to go back to the land across the sea - that's where it all began; that is where it shall end.

The letter confirmed it.