"Of course he wouldn't be here," he grumbled, standing in front of the locked door of Ace's office. It was no wonder no one said anything to me.
I kicked the air, turned around, and stomped out of there. I could see some familiar guards' faces, and they were laughing.
"F*ck you," I said, giving them the middle finger.
As soon as I walked out the base, my phone vibrated, and I heard the ding sound that always accompanied it.
I fished it out of my purse and opened the message. It was from Ace. I glared at it but still read it anyway.
"From now on, there'll be minimal contact between us. Only contact me or Sam when it is most necessary. Do your best as Sensual Night, I'll come see you there sometime."
With love and support,
Your Boss.
I gritted, my hand clenching around the phone until its screen nearly cracked.
"Love and support my *ss."
"I know I'll find you if I came here,"
A man's voice reached me from behind.
In my anger, I moved unaware of my surroundings, and now, it was too late.
The drunk man I punched last night stood in front of me. His hand wrapped in bandages hung close to his chest. He had four other burly guys with him, and they spread out, surrounding me from all sides.
"Sh*t!" I muttered under my breath.
How could I mess up so badly?
This is why people shouldn't be staring at the phones while on the street.
"Did you think you'd get away after last night?" the man said, glaring as he approached me. "Because of you, I can't use my hand. Someone's got to pay the price for that."
I stepped back, my eyes searching for an escape route, but I couldn't find one.
"Then go meet the security guard who broke your arm. I didn't do that." I said, and the men around me chuckled.
"She's fearless," one of the men remarked.
"Or just foolish,"
"Whether foolish or fearless, it's better this way," another said. "It is more satisfying to break someone like that."
I swallowed. I could handle one long enough to escape, but to face off with five men?
There was no way.
I'd been cornered into an alley, and since the moment they showed up, not a single person has passed by here. Which means help was out of the window.
"If you want, I can tell you who broke your arm. Take it out on him," I said, despite the situation.
He began walking towards me. "Last night, I asked nicely, but today," he looked at the four burly men standing and waiting. "With their help, we'll do it right here. They, too, will join us."
A chill ran through me, my heart racing and hands sweating. What kind of situation have I gotten myself into?
"Let's see how tough you really are," the man said, and they started walking towards me all at once.
The first step they took toward me echoed too loudly in the narrow alley.
Five against one.
Fine.
I shifted my weight, eyes locking on the drunk fool's bad arm. He was the weakest link. Break him first. Create a gap. Run.
He lunged.
I moved at the same time.
I ducked under his good arm and drove my elbow straight into his bandaged one.
He screamed.
The sound tore through the alley, raw and animalistic.
But I didn't get far.
A hand grabbed my hair from behind, yanking my head back. Another caught my wrist mid-swing. A third slammed me into the wall hard enough to knock the air from my lungs.
Stars burst behind my eyes.
"Still feisty," someone laughed near my ear.
I struggled, kicked, and bit down on the hand near my face. The metallic taste of blood filled my mouth.
"Hold her still!"
A palm slammed against the wall beside my head.
And then—
Everything suddenly went still, and before I knew what was happening, the man whose hand I bit dropped to the ground, unconscious. Someone else standing where he stood. His eyes stared emotionless at me.
I gulped.
What the….? Just who…
Before I could comprehend what was happening, my thoughts were interrupted as the one who pinned my hands yelled for his fallen comrade,
"Marco…!" his shock was evident in his voice.
"You bastard," the hand holding my hair loosened almost instantly, anger flaring in his eyes as they charged at the stranger fists first.
I couldn't take my eyes off of him.
Despite being outnumbered, he handled them effortlessly, his fists connecting with their jaws one after the other.
There was no hesitation. No wasted movement.
The man who had been holding my hair barely managed a swing, but his wrist was caught mid-air and twisted.
A sickening crack echoed.
The man dropped, screaming.
In no time, all four were on the ground, groaning.
On the other side, the drunkard from yesterday stood pale in place, still clutching his broken arm.
After what just happened, I couldn't blame him. I wasn't any different either. Just like him, I couldn't move. Not because of fear, but something I couldn't quite put a finger on yet.
"Are you behind this?" He asked, his eyes on the drunk man.
He staggered, shaking his head and stepping backward, his mouth opening and closing with barely any word coming out.
"...I…I'm s…sorry," he managed to say before bolting out of the alley as if the ground under his feet was set on fire.
A loser till the end, I thought as I picked myself off the ground.
"Thanks," I said, dusting the dirt off my hand and clothes.
He turned, a frown on his face. Our eyes met and I stepped back involuntarily. His gaze deep, as if he could see right through me.
"Why are they after you?" he asked, his eyes slightly narrowing.
Though it was the second time he had spoken, I felt the weight of his voice. It was deep and magnetic and I found myself shuddering.
I looked away and muttered,
"They can't take a rejection."