The room fell into a thick, suffocating silence.
At this moment, Taylor stood between the loan sharks and Stephanie, fists clenched, breath unsteady. He wasn't strong enough to fight men like them — not even close — but the moment the bald one stepped toward Stephanie, something sharp flashed in Taylor's eyes.
"No," he said, voice shaking. "You don't touch them."
Ring-Fingers chuckled. "A hero, huh? Cute."
"Taylor, Do–"
But before Stephanie could pull him back—
A fist slammed into Taylor's stomach.
He gasped, doubling over, knees trembling.
Stephanie cried out, "TAYLOR!"
Another blow struck him across the face, sending him stumbling into the wall. Maria screamed his name, rushing forward, but Ring-Fingers shoved her aside with a rough push that nearly toppled her.
Taylor staggered back up, dizzy but desperate. "Leave them alone—!"
The bald man grabbed him by the collar and drove him backward, hitting him hard enough that the picture frames on the wall rattled. Taylor's legs buckled, but he swung an arm in futile resistance, striking nothing but air.
Gum-Chewer sneered. "Stay down."
Taylor didn't.
He tried again.
And again.
Until a final heavy blow sent him crashing to the floor, barely conscious. His breathing was shallow, his eyelids fluttering.
Stephanie dropped to her knees beside him, shaking. "Taylor—Taylor, please—look at me—!"
The bald man stepped forward, tone chillingly casual. "Should've minded your business, kid."
Maria rushed to Stephanie, pulling her back as the loan sharks began sweeping their arms across the shelves, knocking down books, picture frames, anything they could reach. Cups shattered. The old lamp hit the floor with a crack. Furniture overturned as they tore through the room like a storm with no mercy.
"No!!"
Maria cried out as one of them yanked her purse away and dumped its contents onto the floor. Another ran his hand across the photo of Stephanie's family, smearing dirt across the glass.
Then the threat escalated.
Ring-Fingers leaned too close to Stephanie, his gaze crawling over her in a way that made her skin crawl. "Maybe your mom ain't got the money… but there are other ways to repay."
Maria stepped between them instantly, trembling, voice breaking. "Don't you dare—!"
The bald man shoved her aside again, harder this time.
Stephanie's heart pounded. Taylor lay motionless. Her mother was on the floor.
The walls felt too small.
The air too thin.
Her body too frozen.
But then the bald man grabbed Stephanie's arm.
And something in her snapped.
"Don't touch me!!!"
She tore away from him, adrenaline flooding her veins, and darted toward the door. He lunged for her sleeve — but missed by barely an inch.
Stephanie stumbled out into the night.
The storm welcomed her like a roar.
Cold rain hammered her instantly, soaking her clothes and blurring her vision. Thunder cracked overhead, trembling through the air.
Inside, the loan sharks shouted, but none followed her.
Why would they?
They had her mother.
They had Taylor.
They had the house.
They thought she'd come back.
Thunder boomed again.
Stephanie ran — blindly, breathlessly — through the heavy storm as if the sky itself was chasing her. Her hair clung to her face. Her lungs burned. Her heart wouldn't stop racing.
She didn't know where she was going.
She only knew she needed help.
"Help, I need help!!"
"Someone."
"Anyone."
And that was the moment — soaked, terrified, trembling —
that she stumbled into the path of a black, armored car rolling slowly through the storm.
Its headlights cut through the rain.
Its engine hummed with a dangerous calm. And just from the corner of her eye, she could see a man whose image perfectly fits the stormy weather.
———
A couple of minutes earlier, at the Crescent City international airport.
The terminal doors slid open with a soft hiss, and a wave of humid Crescent City air washed in. A man who seemed to come right out of a painting stepped through first hallway — tall, composed, and carrying an aura so cold it made the bustling airport feel quieter.
He wore a charcoal coat, crisp and military in its structure, matching the precision in his eyes.
Eyes that scanned the environment like a weapon trained to calculate every threat in sight.
Behind him hurried a man in his early thirties, glasses fogged from the humidity — Ethan Hale, Riley's newly assigned personal assistant.
"Sir, welcome back to Crescent City," Ethan said, struggling to keep up. "Your schedule has been arranged exactly as you requested."
Riley didn't respond immediately. He was watching the crowds move — normal people, chatting, laughing, rushing for taxis. Things he never truly understood.
Finally, he spoke, voice low and controlled.
"Where's the car?"
"This way, sir."
They moved through the terminal and into the private pickup zone.
A sleek, black armored SUV waited at the curb, engine humming with restrained power. The driver straightened at attention the moment he saw Riley.
Ethan walked briskly, talking and tapping through his tablet.
"The media is already buzzing about your unexpected arrival. The board is relieved you're back in the country. The company's Crescent branch has been waiting for new directives from the primary owner—"
"Not here," Riley cut in.
"Oh—right. Yes. Of course, sir."
Ethan adjusted his glasses, flustered but trying to maintain professionalism.
Riley placed a hand on the door handle but paused.
He looked up.
Dark clouds hung over the city, thick and heavy. A storm was brewing — he could feel the pressure in the air, the tension in the wind.
"Storm tonight," Riley murmured.
"Yes, sir," Ethan answered. "The forecast says—"
But Riley was no longer listening. He had already climbed into the backseat.
Inside the SUV, the interior smelled of leather and faint gun oil. Riley rested an elbow against the window, thumb brushing the edge of an old silver pendant hanging around his neck — the only relic from his family before everything went wrong.
"Sir, should we head straight to the company headquarters?" Ethan asked as he entered the front seat.
"No," Riley said quietly.
"Drive."
The driver nodded and pulled away from the curb.
Rain began almost instantly — light at first, then pounding hard against the roof in heavy sheets. The streets grew slick, headlights smearing into long streaks on the asphalt.
Riley watched the city through the tinted window, expression unreadable.
Crescent City.
The starting point of everything.
And the place where he intended to end the nightmare of a past that had shaped every part of his life so far.
Ethan cleared his throat nervously. "Sir… the newspapers also mentioned a recent spike in loan shark violence in the eastern district."
Riley's jaw tightened.
"Of course there is."
The driver slowed as the storm intensified. The road ahead blurred with torrents of water.
Then—
through the wall of rain—
a small, stumbling silhouette suddenly emerged into their path.
The driver's eyes widened.
"Sir—!!"
BRRRR—SKRRRRT!
The tires screeched violently as he slammed the brakes.
Riley leaned forward slightly, eyes narrowing.
A young woman stood in the headlights — soaked, trembling, her clothes clinging to her skin.
Her breathing was ragged, her hair plastered to her face.
Fear radiated off her in waves even through the storm.
The car skidded to a halt just inches from her.
Riley frowned.
"…Who is that?"