Chapter 252: Dom Gets Humbled in Hell's Kitchen
"Damn it, Ethan, you son of a bitch!" Dominic snarled, clutching his injured shoulder as he stormed out of the Lucky Dragon's front doors, face dark with fury and wounded pride.
His whole arm still throbbed where Ethan had wrenched it — felt like it had nearly snapped clean off.
"Dominic, I told you to watch yourself in there," Han said, hurrying out after him, trying to talk him down. "Ethan runs Hell's Kitchen. You think that's a joke? You're lucky he let it go easy — another guy might not have walked out of there at all."
"Han, you're supposed to be my brother, and you're taking his side?" Dominic rounded on him furiously. "So what, he says jump in some race and I just do it? Like Ethan's the only guy in all of Hell's Kitchen who can get me a gun?"
Dominic was seething, unwilling to just roll over and accept being pushed around. He needed the gear to go save his wife — and instead of just helping, this Ethan character was making him jump through hoops. Felt like a straight-up insult. And the race wasn't even for five days — hell, his wife could be dead by then for all he knew.
And even if he won the damn race, he'd still owe Ethan a favor for it. He wasn't about to grovel to some punk kid.
He was confident he didn't need Ethan at all — he could track down the same gear through his own channels.
Family mattered more to him than his pride ever would. Wait — no. His pride mattered more than anyone's opinion of him, family included, apparently.
Han watched him rage and knew there was no point arguing further. He just stood back and let Dominic burn through it.
Dominic stalked toward his car, ready to peel out of this godforsaken place — but his cursing had already drawn attention. Hell's Kitchen residents nearby were staring him down with open hostility, like he was some unwelcome intruder.
Ethan's standing in this neighborhood ran deep. If this hadn't been right outside the Lucky Dragon's doors, someone would already have taken a swing at him.
Dominic felt the hostile stares closing in from every direction, like he'd suddenly become public enemy number one. Already furious from the confrontation inside, seeing a bunch of nobodies he normally wouldn't even glance at — people he considered beneath him — glaring at him with open defiance, even a raggedy street beggar throwing him a hostile look, only made it worse.
Being looked down on like this lit something in him. He felt like a clown on display, mocked and jeered at from every angle. He couldn't hold it in.
"The hell are you all staring at, you trash!" he bellowed. "My hand's busted or I'd beat every last one of you into the ground!"
His voice dripped with menace, venting every ounce of frustration boiling inside him.
With that, he reached for his car door, fully convinced none of these people would dare actually touch him.
Just as his hand hit the handle, his vision went black — something slammed into the back of his head, hard.
Before he could even turn to see who'd hit him, four or five beggars swarmed in and dragged him bodily out of the car and down onto the pavement.
Dominic tried to fight back, but between his already-ruined arm from Ethan and the ringing in his skull from the surprise blow, he couldn't put up any real resistance.
Worse — these beggars turned out to be far tougher than they had any right to be. Every time he tried to counter, they slipped free easily and came right back at him with another beating.
Han moved to step in, but was blocked by a wall of Hell's Kitchen residents before he got two steps. Knowing full well this was Ethan's turf and not a place to act rashly, he shouted instead: "I live here! I'm one of you!"
A big guy blocking his path said, "Relax, we're all law-abiding citizens here in Hell's Kitchen. We're just teaching this loudmouth a little manners. Nobody's dying outside the Lucky Dragon today."
Han had absolutely nothing to say to that. Beating a guy senseless as a mob — that's your idea of "law-abiding"??
Still, having lived in Hell's Kitchen for years, he knew this was already a massive improvement over how things used to run. If Dominic had pulled a stunt like this in the old days, it wouldn't have been fists doing the talking — it would've been bullets.
Once Han was sure Dominic wasn't in any real danger, he stopped resisting the crowd. If he was honest with himself, he wasn't exactly torn up about it either.
He'd warned Dominic before they even walked in — don't get cocky, we're here asking for a favor, and this is Ethan's turf. And what does the guy do? Disrespects Ethan to his face. Total disregard for Han's own standing here, too.
On top of that, Han had clocked the way Dominic had been eyeing the waitress earlier — pretty sure if Ethan hadn't intervened, the man would've ended up in her bed by tonight, no question.
Never mind that his own wife was in mortal danger because of him, while he was out here running his mouth and eyeing other women.
Family this, family that, out of his mouth constantly — but not once did he show Han an ounce of the same respect. So Han figured he didn't owe the man any either.
Truth be told, Han wasn't even that invested in calling this guy "family" to begin with. The only reason he'd agreed to help at all was the big score they'd pulled together once, and the cut of money riding on it. Han had already quietly decided: once this job was done, he was cutting ties with Dominic for good.
Meanwhile, the crowd around Dominic kept growing, piling on with zero mercy. A few newer Hell's Kitchen residents, unfamiliar with what had triggered it, drifted over to watch, curious what all the commotion was about.
Someone, uneasy about the scene playing out right on Mr. Cross's own doorstep, stepped forward and tried to calm the mob down: "Come on, this isn't right. Mr. Cross doesn't like violence, you know. Careful — he sees this, he might have you all sent off for 'reeducation.'"
The warning didn't land the way he'd hoped.
"This bastard cursed out Mr. Cross right in the street!" someone shot back. "He's got it coming!"
That single line was all it took. Any hesitation in the crowd evaporated, replaced instantly with fury. "You're defending someone who insulted our beloved Mr. Cross?! Why haven't you joined in yet — you in on this with him or something?" Since the peacemaker had only been standing there watching instead of throwing punches, the mob decided he must be an accomplice and dragged him into the beating too.
"No, no, I just — I was just taking a breather!" the poor man protested weakly.
"Fair enough, back in I go!" Others streamed in from every direction to join the pile-on.
"Nobody talks about Mr. Cross like that!"
"Beat his ass!"
The anger spread like wildfire. More and more residents joined in — young, old, didn't matter — the second word spread that this stranger had insulted Mr. Cross, in they went without a second thought.
"Damn it, Ethan! I'm calling my Family — you're gonna pay for this!" Dominic groaned from the ground, arms wrapped protectively around his head.
Meanwhile, completely unaware any of this was happening, Ethan was over at Fisk Tower, deep in conversation with Wanda about the upcoming race tournament.
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