Rigid with tension, I turn around nervously with my back pressed against the wall. My heart thrashes wildly in my chest as I notice a group of men approag, resembling a pack of hyenas closing in on their prey.

  Sinister smirks and ominous snickers apany each menag thug, their cealed ons adding ara yer of threat.

  One man, unmistakably a sociopath, leisurely sweeps his tongue along the bde of his knife, a dark promise etched in the gesture. My bdder weakens at the chilling sight.

  Fueled by dread, I attempt to escape into the alley like the stray cat had done. But a cag hyena emerges from that dire, revealing the calcuted nature of their ambush.

  “You’re a difficult man to pin down, Mr. Williams.”

  WHAM!

  Following the snide remark, a fsh of movement catches my attention. The wind briefly parts ways, and in the moment, my nose bends at an angle I'm pretty sure it wasn't meant to—and searing pain shoots up into my head.

  My body sms against the wall of the venieore, and trash s tumble to the ground with me, their tents cluttering the pavement.

  The ckey responsible for the blow steps back, wearing a pt grin. Blood seeps from my nose and mouth, the metallic taste of iron saturating my tongue.

  A guttural grunt escapes my throat as another ckey clutches a fistful of my hair, lifting my head. My eyes flutter open to a tall man in formal attire, fidently seated on a makeshift stool that a fellow ckey has unfolded, his legs crossing in an intimidating fir.

  It's unmistakable... he is, without a doubt, the leader.

  “Mr. Williams,” the man begins, his half-lidded eyes stern and unwavering. “I am a man of discipline; I believe in rules and equivalent exge. trary to popur belief, the underworld—much like the rest of society—is governed by strict rules aions. Without order, chaos ensues, and without uniisinterpretation is iable.

  Even in my… unique field of work,” he gracefully gesticutes with his hands, “there are strict protocols to be followed. By agreeing to do business with us, you seo those terms, am I wrong?”

  Still reeling from the blow to my face, the taste and smell of blood make me queasy. Words beuffled and slurred, and the grinning faces of the men morph into grotesque tortions remi of a horror movie.

  A pained series of cries tear from my lungs as I’m assaulted by a barrage of kicks to the fad torso.

  “Ahe question, or we’ll pound you into paste,” one of the thugs threatens, his beady eyes wide with malice.

  Before I catch my breath, my head is yanked backward again, hard—and my bloodshot eyes meet those of the man I borrowed money from weeks ago. There's no pleasure in his expression, just a cold dissatisfa with my pain-induced silence. But what could I do? I am weaving in and out of sciousness.

  Without a word, he gracefully slides from his stool and approaches me in a single fluid motion, his gaze fixed on my ag. Deft fingers gently uncsp the pin from its catch, and in the moment, a sharp object pierces my earlobe.

  I ch my teeth as a groan escapes me. The onsught of pain shakes me to my very core. In this intense moment, an unpreted sense ret courses through every fiber of my being, a regret born from the desperate choices that brought me to this harrowing juncture.

  Three weeks ago, I borrowed money from a notorious loan shark. To make matters worse, I was now running and hiding from them after missing the payment deadline.

  I knew I wouldn’t escape unscathed, but the stark trast between anticipating pain and actually experieng it is overwhelming. The pain c through me now surpasses any level of torment I imagine.

  this possibly get any worse?

  “Listen up, kid,” the man's voice bees a chilling whisper. “What we’re running here is a business, not a LEGO set. Uhe normies, we don’t have the justice system on our side, so we have to make proper examples of ts like you to prevent others from taking us lightly.”

  The moment he rises and strides away, his underlings desd upon me like vultures on a carcass. While I struggle fruitlessly to defend my face against the flurry of kicks and stomps, the leader is busy exging his jacket for a crowbar.

  My eyes snap open in dread.

  “No, please,” the plea escapes my throat before I string together a coherent thought. An eerie premonition of what awaits tightens my entire body with horror. I summo shreds of strength that adrenaline provides, my nails splitting as they grip the crete. But, before I budge an inch, the hyenas pin my limbs.

  The leader looms over me like a spawn of hell, his eyes devoid of all emotion. “You break the rules, you suffer the sequences—equivalent exge,” he utters, tilting his head. “You seem very proud of ys that you've been using to run and hide.”

  “W-Wait a minute—”

  CRACK!

  Time seems to , my eyes trembling wildly as the unpleasant sound of breaking bone reverberates through the narrow alley. Waves of scorg pain surge through every cell in my body, and a primal roar tears my lungs, drowning out the sadistic cag of the hyenas.

  My body is suddenly drenched i. Without a scious thought, I lift my head, my vision blurred by the excruciating pain, and gaze down at my leg. It is not only discolored but also twisted at an ahat defies anatomical possibility.

  , I catch the unremorseful gaze of the man who just crippled me. His demeanor has transformed, shedding the veneer of a calm and posed leader. Instead, he wears the visage of a malevolent force, poised to bestow unmerciful retribution.

  “Let’s see if you’ll be able to ruime when you’re in a wheelchair.”

  That was the signal.

  The man’s fiighten around the crowbar, and his ckeys wat undisguised excitement.

  “…Fifty pert,” I mutter under my breath.

  The crowbar freezes in mid-air, and all eyes fixate on me.

  “What?”

  “Fifty pert!” I shout breathlessly.

  A hyena whistles in awe.

  “I… made a time-sensitive iment with the money,” I expin in a stupefied manner, saliva drooling from the ers of my mouth. “I’m… regretful it turned out this way, but I’ll make amends by repaying the loan with a higher i rate.”

  The leader looks down at me without a hint of sympathy, weighing my proposal.

  “It’s… my first time missing a payment; show mercy just this once. Besides, putting me in a wheelchair will only dey the repayment further.”

  EE-OO!

  The approag wail of police sirens fractures the tension, pelling the leader to reach a decision.

  “Tsk,” he clicks his tongue, visibly a losing trol of the situation. His Oxford dress shoe presses down onto my face, as though snuffing out a spent cigar. “You have until the end of the month to return what you owe… along with the additional i.”

  Sing the crowbar for his jacket, the man casually reaches for a vape pen. After drawing a deep puff, he takes o gring look at his handy work before sauntering off with his crew. They are clearly disappoihat they missed out on a bit more amusement.

  Soon after, I hear the stifled cries of the Robinsons as they frantically rush over from the store. It appears they withe ordeal and promptly called the authorities.

  The timing is impeccable, but I ck the strength to say that or reassure them that I'm fine. My body is numb, my strength drained, and it isn't long before unsciousness sweeps over me.