BORN TO BE A MAN,FORCED TO BE A GANGSTER

THE MAN THEY FEARED

The city was quiet and tense, like it was holding its breath. The streets were empty, and the usual noise of gangs and sirens was gone. Suddenly, the sound of breaking glass echoed through the night, followed by a single bark from a dog that quickly fell silent, like it knew it shouldn't make noise.

People were terrified of Griffin.

They whispered about him in hushed tones, fearing that even the walls might listen. Griffin was a ruthless man who built his power through violence and intimidation. His fists didn't just hurt people physically, but also ruined their reputations. He was merciless, and his enemies didn't just lose – they were finished.

In bars, alleys, and even police cells, people said the same thing:

“Don’t cross him. Don’t even look him in the eye. Griffin never forgives.”

That night, one gang made a big mistake.

A group of young thugs called themselves The Wolves. They robbed, bullied, and caused trouble in Griffin's city, thinking they were above the law. But they were about to find out that Griffin didn't tolerate anyone disrespecting his territory.

Griffin didn’t send a group of threats. He went to their hideout alone.

The Wolves were drinking and laughing, money on the table. When the door opened, everyone looked up. The air was thick with smoke and sweat.

At first, they thought it was a mistake—just an old man walking in, and they were already thinking of using him as a scapegoat. But their eyes disappeared. The room went silent.

Griffin stood in the doorway. Big and strong, his eyes cold. No anger, just quiet danger.

“You’re making noise in my city,” he said softly but sharply.

One boy, either brave or foolish, said, “Your city? Old man, those days are gone.”

Griffin didn’t answer. He moved.

Fast. One punch hit the boy’s throat before he could pull his knife. Another was slammed against the wall, his head cracking. The table flipped, money flying everywhere. Chaos broke loose.

Knives flashed, bottles smashed, but Griffin was a storm. Every hit counted. Ribs snapped, jaws broke,and blood splattered.

The Wolves fought back, screaming and rushing him, but one by one they fell.

Minutes later, only groans and coughs were left. The floor was covered in blood. Griffin stood calmly—his shirt didn’t even tear.

He stepped over broken chairs and a boy holding his ribs and said?

“Remember this night. Griffin never fades. Griffin never forgives.”

Griffin left the Wolves broken, but the city didn’t feel safe. When he acted, it wasn’t just about violence—it was about keeping control. He was reminding everyone that the streets still answered to him.

By morning, whispers spread faster than smoke from burning tires. Shopkeepers opened quietly, careful not to make noise. Taxi drivers kept their heads down. Even rival gangs were cautious, locking doors and watching closely.

Because when Griffin made a move, things were changing.

But power always comes with a price. Behind the fear, enemies were watching. Some from far away, some closer than anyone expected.

And while Griffin ruled the streets, new shadows were forming—a story bigger than just him.

Far from the Wolves’ fight, someone else was moving. A person whose cleverness wasn't feared but respected