The subway station’s isolated corner was a cold, little light from street lights and passing trains overhead casting shadows across the glinting train tracks below.
I sighed deeply, my breath clouding in the chilly air, my face settling into a bored, neutral despite. "This is gonna be a tiring night," I thought to myself under my breath, my eyes flicking over the scene—the bats, the girls, the men closing in.
*Crunch.* Michael, the cigarette guy, tossed his butt to the ground, grinding it under his boot with a slow, deliberate twist.
His lean frame straightened, his dark jacket rustling as he stepped toward me, his eyes narrowing.
"So, he’s Ezra, huh?" he said, his voice low and sharp. He tilted his head, sizing me up, his cigarette-stained fingers flexing.
Raya piped up, her voice trembling but laced with that same sly edge I’d caught before. "Y-yeah, Michael, he’s Ezra," she said, her lips twitching into a smile. "He seduced us when we went to the club to enjoy ourselves."
I almost snorted, my mind racing. *Who comes to a brothel to enjoy themselves?* I thought, the absurdity hitting me hard. These guys—Michael, Henry, the bat-wielding goons—seemed too brain-dead to argue with, too caught up in their own drama to see the obvious. I kept my face blank, my hands still in my pockets, letting the moment play out.
Michael stepped closer, his boots scuffing the concrete, and pulled out Raya’s phone, shoving the screen in my face. There it was—a photo from just hours ago, me, Raya, and Kalina on the brothel’s bed, naked, smiling, their hands on my dick and then he slide to the next photo where they are kissing my dick.
My stomach twisted, but I didn’t flinch, my eyes flicking from the screen to Michael’s face, his jaw tight, his glare venomous.
"You sure have a handsome face," he said, his voice dripping with mockery as he pocketed the phone, his free hand gesturing to one of his buddies. The guy with the bat—shaved head, leather jacket—stepped forward, gripping the weapon tighter, his knuckles whitening.
"Thanks," I wanted to say it out loud for his compliment to my handsome face but I don’t think I should. My expression still bored.
Michael’s smirk faded, his eyes hardening.
"But you know," he said, his voice dropping, "you shouldn’t mess around with other people’s girlfriends like that." He took the bat from Henry, clutching it with both hands, his stance widening like he was ready to swing.
I exhaled, another sigh, my hands staying in my pockets, my gaze steady. "I was just doing my job there," I said, straight and simple, no edge, no challenge, just the truth.
The men burst out laughing, the sound harsh and echoing off the stone pillars, like I’d cracked a joke or mouthed off to their leader. Henry slapped his thigh, the bat-wielding goons chuckling, even Raya’s smile widened, though Kalina’s eyes stayed on me, unreadable. Michael’s laugh was the loudest, but it died fast, his face twisting into a snarl.
"You motherfucker!" he spat, swinging the bat toward me, the wood cutting through the air with a vicious
I stepped back, calm and precise, my boots scuffing the concrete as the bat missed me by inches, the air hissing where it passed.
My expression stayed bored, my hands still in my pockets, though my pulse thrummed, every muscle ready.
"Huhh!?" Michael’s face twisted, puzzled, his jaw tightening as he spat on the ground. "You fucking rascal!" he cursed, his voice raw, swinging the bat again, harder this time, aiming for my head.
I dodged left, turning smooth and quick, the bat whistling past, my bag swaying on my shoulder.
The move was instinct, my body loose but alert, my eyes never leaving him.
"Damn, Michael, you gonna lose to a kid?" one of his buddies called out, laughing, his bat tapping against his palm. The others chuckled, their voices echoing off the stone pillars, pushing him on.
"Yeah, Michael, kill him already," another goon added, his rod glinting as he shifted his weight, his grin wide and cruel. Raya’s secret smile flashed, her fake sobs a distant hum, while Kalina’s gaze stayed steady and surprised.
"Arghh YOU!!!" Michael growled, his face red, swinging the bat a third time, the *swooosh* louder, more frantic.
This time, I didn’t dodge. My hand shot out, grabbing the bat mid-swing, the wood slamming into my palm with a loud
The impact stung, but I held firm, my grip like iron, stopping him cold. I bore my gaze into his, my eyes hard, serious, no trace of the boredom I’d worn before.
The station seemed to freeze—the goons’ laughter died, the girls’ voices faded, the tracks’ hum went silent.
In the next second, I moved. My foot snapped up in a blur, connecting with Michael’s face, a clean, brutal kick that sent him sprawling down on the ground.
His head hit the concrete, his body crumpling like a rag doll, the bat clattering away. He was out cold, his face expressionless as if he didn’t even get time to react and a faint groan escaping as he lay there, motionless.
The air thickened, the goons’ grins vanishing, their bats and rods shifting in their hands. Raya’s smile faltered, Kalina’s eyes widened, and the men in black coats stayed still, their silence heavier now.
I lowered my foot slowly, my breath steady, my hands back in my pockets. The night, already long and heavy, had just gotten messier, and I knew it wasn’t over yet.
My expression was unreadable, my long hair falling over my eyes as I stood motionless, my hands loose at my sides. Slowly, I reached up, gripping the strap of my bag, and let it slide off my shoulder, the weight hitting the ground with a soft *thud*.
Raya and Kalina, pressed against the stone pillar, stared at me, their faces lit with stunned surprise, as if they’d just witnessed something extraordinary, impossible—a flicker of awe cutting through their earlier sly smiles.
The mafia goons, gripping their bats and rods, froze, their cocky grins replaced by troubled frowns, beads of sweat glinting on their foreheads, confusion and unease rippling through them as they realized I wasn’t the easy kid they’d expected.