He stumbled, surprised by the force, but came back swinging—a wild punch that grazed my shoulder. I ducked the next one and drove my fist into his gut. He doubled over with a whoosh of air.
The second guy lunged from the side, grabbing my arm. I twisted, elbowing him in the ribs—hard crack that made him grunt and loosen his grip. The third tried to tackle me from behind, but I sidestepped, sending him crashing into a shelf of chips that went flying.
They weren't expecting resistance; I wasn't backing down.
One got a good grip on my shirt, yanking me toward the counter. I lost balance for a second, elbow slamming hard against the edge as I caught myself. Sharp pain shot up my arm—skin split, blood welling immediately.
That seemed to spook them. The tall one looked at his buddies, breathing heavy. "Fuck this," he muttered. They backed off fast, grabbing their condoms and bolting out the door without paying, bell jingling as they disappeared into the night.
