POV: Laurel Lance
The moment Derek grabbed my wrist, my body froze.
I couldn't scream.I couldn't think.
My mind went blank—except for one thought that kept repeating, louder and louder.
I'm alone.
His fingers dug into my skin, rough and unforgiving. When he shoved me, the world tilted. My back hit the ground hard, knocking the breath out of my lungs.
I tried to move.
Nothing responded.
Daddy isn't here.Mom isn't here.
Derek loomed over me, his shadow swallowing the light.
"You really think you're special?" he sneered."Teacher's pet. Cop's daughter."
My vision blurred.
Please… someone…
POV: Michael Silver
I see her fall.
Everything inside me snaps into place.
Four enemies.One larger leader.One potential weapon.Civilian on the ground.
My feet move before fear can.
"Pick on someone your own size," I say, my voice cold,"or are you only brave when your target can't fight back?"
Derek turns, surprised.
Good. Distraction achieved.
I step between them without breaking eye contact with him.
Laurel is behind me now.Protect the space. Control the distance.
My hands rise—not clenched, not stiff.
Relaxed.
Boxing stance. Chin down. Breathe.
Coach Brown's voice echoes in my head.
"Violence is chaos. Your job is to make it ordered."
General POV – The Fight
"Jump him!" Derek snarls.
The smallest boy charges first.
Predictable.
Mike shifts his weight and delivers a short front kick to the solar plexus—not full power, just enough.
The boy collapses, gasping.
One neutralized.
The second attacker swings wildly.
Mike slips the punch, steps inside the guard, and drives a jab into the nose, immediately followed by a compact cross to the jaw.
The boy drops.
Two.
Mike doesn't celebrate. His eyes never leave Derek.
He's the real threat.
Derek charges with raw anger.
No training. Heavy swings.
Mike circles, forcing Derek to turn, forcing his weight to shift.
Exhaust him.
But movement in his peripheral vision—
The first boy isn't out.
He lunges from behind and locks his arms around Mike's chest, squeezing.
"NOW, DEREK!"
Grappled. Bad.
Mike spreads his stance, lowering his center of gravity.
Don't panic.Buy time.
Derek's hand disappears into his pocket.
Weapon.
A knife flashes into view.
Laurel screams.
This just escalated.
POV: Michael Silver
Knife changes everything.
No rules now.
Derek thrusts forward.
Mike twists—but the blade cuts across his neck, shallow but vicious.
Fire explodes under his skin.
Ignore it. Stay functional.
Mike stomps backward, crushing the instep of the boy holding him.
The grip loosens.
In the same motion, Mike explodes upward, driving a full-power kick straight into Derek's face.
Bone cracks.
Derek collapses, screaming.
Leader down.
Mike spins.
The boy behind him screams in pain.
Mike hooks an elbow into his ribs, then drives a knee into his stomach.
The kid drops.
Only one remains.
Jimmy.
Frozen.
Fear in his eyes.
Good.
Jimmy swings desperately.
Mike steps in and unloads a ruthless combination, each punch calculated.
Jab—Cross—Hook—
Jimmy falls.
Mike mounts him instantly.
End it.
Fist after fist crashes down.
"STOP—PLEASE—!"
Mike doesn't hear it.
This is what happens when you threaten someone weaker.This is what happens when you pull a knife.
Only when Jimmy stops resisting does Mike pull back.
His hands are shaking.
Blood drips from his neck.
Derek stumbles away, holding his shattered nose.
"THIS ISN'T OVER!"
They flee.
POV: Laurel Lance
I can't move.
My body is trembling so hard it hurts.
Mike is standing.
Bleeding.
Alive.
He walks toward me slowly, carefully—like I might break.
He takes off his jacket and wraps it around me.
I grab his shirt without thinking.
My fingers dig in.
If I let go—he might disappear.
Why did u help me? Laurel said.
"I don't understand why people hurt others," he says quietly."But I don't need a reason to protect someone."
Something inside me breaks completely.
I cry—harder than I ever have.
Not just fear.
Relief.
POV: Michael Silver
She's shaking.
Her breathing is erratic.
Trauma response.
I don't pull away.
I let her hold on.
"I'll walk you home," I say."Not leaving you alone today."
She nods silently.
The entire way, she stays close—too close.
At her door, she hesitates.
"Mike…"Her voice trembles."I thought I was going to die."
I meet her eyes.
"You didn't."
She swallows.
"I'll remember this. Always."
I nod.
"Be careful. I won't always be there."
She looks like she wants to argue.
Instead, she whispers:
"Thank you."
As I walk away, my neck burns.
But the weight in my chest feels lighter.