Chapter 362: Quick Stop! 3

"This must be the place," Shay said.

They were standing in front of a building that had clearly stopped caring about itself at some point and had not been talked back into it since.

Three floors, the facade a faded grey, the lower windows boarded up with the thoroughness of someone who had wanted the conversation about what was behind them to end permanently.

On the door, same style as the jackets from the office, was the Reaper logo sprayed on in dark paint.

"Let’s go in," Liam said.

"Alright," Shay said.

They went through the door.

Inside was dim and carried the specific smell of a building that had stopped being maintained long enough for the smell to become its identity.

Damp and old food and something underneath both that had no clean name.

Two men were asleep against the left wall, backs to the plaster, legs stretched across the corridor.

Liam and Shay stepped around them. One stirred and turned over and went back to sleep without opening his eyes.

They found the stairs and went up.

First landing, a door standing open onto a room where three children sat on the floor around something small and battery powered, a game of some kind, their attention entirely on it.

One looked up at Liam and Shay as they passed and looked back at the game.

Liam slowed.

He looked at the sleeping bags pushed against the wall and the bags stacked in the corner and the specific arrangement of people making a space work that had not been designed for any of this.

He kept moving.

Second floor was quieter. A closed door.

The smell of something cooked recently.

A cat at the far end of the landing watching them with the flat authority of an animal that had decided this building was its territory and was currently allowing their presence in it on a probationary basis.

Third floor.

The music reached them before the landing did, bass coming through a closed door, not loud enough to bother the street but loud enough that whoever was behind it had made a decision about not caring.

Shay looked at Liam.

Liam looked at the door.

Shay took one step back and put his foot into it.

It opened with the conviction of something that had not been expecting a foot and the music came out in full and they walked through.

Wide room, low ceiling, the kind of space that had once been several smaller rooms before someone removed the walls without consulting anyone about load bearing. Mismatched furniture throughout. Crates as tables. Bottles on every surface.

Four men. Two with women on their laps, both couples looking at the door with the transition from relaxed to alert happening in real time across their faces.

A third man near the window with his arms folded, the posture of someone whose assigned position was near windows with arms folded.

And in the large chair in the far corner, the one that had clearly been selected because it was the largest chair available, a man with a stack of money on the table in front of him, bills spread out, hands in the middle of counting when the door came open.

His jacket had the same Reaper symbol but better quality fabric than the men from the office, the kind of small distinction that communicated hierarchy without requiring the word.

Everyone was still.

The music kept going.

"Who the fuck are you two," the man in the chair said.

They came into the room.

"You sent people to my workplace today," Liam said.

The man looked at him. Looked at Shay. Back at Liam. Taking his time, running whatever calculation he ran.

"I don’t know what you’re talking about," he said.

"Three of them," Liam said. "Your logo on their jackets. Collecting taxes. Claiming to be Reaper gang."

"I don’t track every small collection run," the man said. He set the money down and leaned back, arms going to the rests on either side of the chair. "People do things."

"One of them put his hands on my employee," Liam said.

"Sounds like a personal problem," the man said.

One of the other men laughed.

Liam looked at him briefly and then back at the chair.

"What did you do to my men," the man said.

"Your man with the dagger doesn’t have a working hand anymore," Liam said. "The other two are waiting in an office across the city."

"That’s a lie," the man said.

Liam sighed softly, taking his hands out of his pockets. He rolled his wrists, the faint sound of his knuckles popping sounding crisp in the quiet room.

?

"Fine," Liam said smoothly, his eyes locking onto the leader’s angry face. "If you think it’s a lie, I guess I’ll just have to beat your ass, too."

?

The leader blinked, momentarily stunned by the sheer, unbothered audacity of the response. Then, a dark, psychotic grin spread across his features.

?

"You hear this shit?" the leader laughed, gesturing to his men. "This little shit comes into my territory, in my house, and talks to me like he’s the boss of something! Boys, break his legs. Leave him on the sidewalk for the rats."

?

Two of the thugs nearest to the door didn’t hesitate.

They drew short metal batons from their belts with a metallic shack and lunged toward Liam and Shay. One went high for Liam’s head, while the other swung hard at Shay’s ribs.

?

"I’ve got these two," Shay said casually, stepping sideways into the attacker’s guard before the baton could even reach its peak.

?

Shay moved with the terrifying efficiency of a seasoned street veteran.

He caught the first thug’s wrist mid-swing, twisted it outward until the joint cracked loudly, and drove a brutal, short-range knee straight into the man’s sternum.

The thug exploded into a breathy wheeze, his eyes rolling back as Shay grabbed him by the back of his neck and slammed his head down into the edge of a wooden coffee table.

The table split down the middle, and the guy crumpled onto the floor like a sack of wet flour.

?

The second thug tried to backpedal, his eyes wide with sudden panic, but Shay was already on him.

Shay stepped in tight, parried the wild baton strike with his forearm, and delivered a swift, lethal two-punch combination—a heavy hook to the liver followed by a short, rising uppercut that lifted the man clean off his feet before he crashed heavily onto the floorboards, completely knocked out cold.

?

It took less than five seconds.

?

The remaining two thugs near the couches froze, their weaponed hands trembling as they looked from Shay back to Liam.

?

The leader’s smirk completely evaporated.

His jaw tightened, and a flash of genuine uncertainty flickered in his small eyes.

But driven by pride and the presence of his remaining crew, he reached behind his back, pulling a heavy, custom brass-knuckle set over his right fist.

?

"You think you’re tough, huh?!" the leader snarled, stepping out from behind his desk and charging toward Liam like an enraged bull. He threw a heavy, telegraphed right hook aiming straight for Liam’s jaw, intending to let the brass knuckles do the talking.

?

Liam didn’t even flinch.

?

To Liam, whose reaction times had been honed under the brutal, relentless crucible of Wraith’s lightning-fast sparring sessions and Elena’s high-pressure training drills, the punch moved in slow motion.

?

Liam simply tilted his head two inches to the left. The heavy brass knuckles whistled harmlessly past his ear, cutting through empty air.

?

Before the leader could recover his balance, Liam stepped inside the man’s reach, his left hand shooting out like a striking viper to clamp securely around the leader’s thick throat.

?

The leader gasped, his eyes bulging as Liam’s grip locked onto his windpipe like an iron vise.

?

The leader tried to swing his left fist, but Liam didn’t give him the chance. Liam pivoted his hips, driving his right fist directly into the leader’s midsection with the full weight of his core behind it.

?

*THUD!*

?

A sickening sound echoed through the room as the strike connected.

The leader’s breath was instantly blown out of his lungs in a ragged, desperate wheeze.

His knees buckled under him, but Liam didn’t let him fall.

?

Holding the massive man up by his throat with one hand, Liam lifted him entirely off the floorboards, pinning his back against the exposed brick pillar in the center of the loft.

The leader thrashed his legs uselessly, his hands clutching frantically at Liam’s wrist, trying in vain to break the immovable grip.

?

Liam leaned in close, his face inches away from the leader’s bruised, swollen face.

His dark eyes were completely devoid of warmth, glowing with a cold, terrifying intensity that made the gang leader’s blood turn to ice.

?

"I asked you a simple question earlier," Liam said softly, his voice cutting through the leader’s desperate wheezing. "And you gave me a lot of noise instead."

?

The leader choked, his vision swimming as oxygen struggled to reach his brain.

The terror in his eyes was absolute now—he realized with sickening clarity that the young man holding him up like a ragdoll wasn’t just some angry kid from the neighborhood. He was a predator.

?

"P-please..." the leader rasped out, his arrogant toughness completely shattered. "Wait... please... who... who the fuck are you guys...?"

?

Shay walked over, hands tucked casually back into his pockets, stepping past the two terrified remaining thugs who had dropped their weapons and pressed themselves flat against the far wall.

?

Shay looked up at the choking leader, then glanced at Liam with a calm, unimpressed look.

?

"I’m Shay," Shay said smoothly, his deep voice ringing out clearly in the silent room. "The second in command of the actual Reapers Gang."

?

The guys eyes went even wider, a strangled gasp escaping his throat.

?

Shay gestured subtly with his chin toward the young man holding him against the brick pillar. "And the guy whose shop your idiots decided to wreck? His name is Liam. My Boss."

?

Just from hearing that his face turned completely pale.

Then, with a cold, dismissive flick of his wrist, Liam released his grip.

?

The leader dropped like a stone, hitting the hard concrete floor with a heavy, painful THUD, coughing violently as he clutched his throat, gasping for air as tears leaked from his eyes.

?

Liam stood over him for a moment, looking down at the groaning, broken man without a trace of pity.

?

Shay stepped up beside Liam, looking down at the heap on the floor, then turned his head toward Liam with a wry, raised eyebrow.

?

"Is he still alive?" Shay asked casually, nudging the leader’s boot with his toe.

?

Liam wiped a speck of dust off his jacket sleeve and turned toward the exit, his posture relaxed once more.

?

"Yeah," Liam replied calmly, stepping over the shattered doorway into the hall. "He’s alive."