Ethan Storm’s Dark Awakening

3

Jason Wild stormed in, flanked by four thugs in leather jackets, tattoos snaking up their arms, and brass knuckles already in place. Jason himself looked nothing like his drunk little brother—he was a wall of muscle in a tailored vest, black gloves on both hands, and cold fury in his eyes.

"You the one who laid hands on my brother?" Jason growled, scanning the room until his eyes locked on Ethan.

"I did," Ethan said simply.

Jason's lip curled. "Big mistake. Teach him a lesson."

The four men surged forward.

Alice jolted upright. "Ethan—"

"Stay back," Ethan said without turning around.

The first man threw a punch. Ethan ducked, jabbed him in the ribs, and elbowed his jaw. The man crumpled.

The second lunged. Ethan sidestepped and grabbed the man's jacket, using his momentum to flip him over the table. Glass shattered.

The third and fourth came together. Ethan met them halfway, landing a spinning kick on one and grabbing the other's arm mid-swing. He twisted and dropped him to the ground with a satisfying crack.

In less than thirty seconds, the bar floor was littered with yelling bodies.

Jason took a cautious step back, momentarily stunned by the carnage around him. His men—all four of them—were sprawled across the bar floor, clutching broken ribs, noses, or pride.

With a sudden roar, Jason charged—fast for a man his size. His gloved fist swung like a wrecking ball toward Ethan's face.

Ethan stepped back just in time, the punch grazing his shoulder. He responded with a quick jab to Jason's ribs, then another to his jaw. Jason grunted but didn't fall.

"You'll have to do better than that," Jason spat, and swung again, this time with a right hook.

Ethan ducked low, came up beneath Jason's arm, and drove a brutal uppercut into his gut. Jason stumbled, gasping for air. Ethan didn't stop. He pressed forward, landing three sharp punches—one to the jaw, one to the temple, and the last to the sternum.

Jason crashed into the booth with a grunt, knees buckling. He dropped to the floor, one knee down, wheezing and dazed. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth.

Ethan's voice was calm. "Still think I made a mistake?"

Jason clenched his fists. "You're dead, man. My boss—Mad Tiger—he'll put a price on your head."

Ethan narrowed his eyes, a strange glint flickering in their depths. "You work for Mad Tiger?"

Jason's lips curled into an arrogant smirk. "What, getting scared now? Our boss has connections everywhere—even with Nova Corporation. You've messed with the wrong people this time. If you're smart, you'll get on your knees and apologize… and hand that woman behind you over to me and my brother—"

Before he could finish, Ethan let out a cold, humorless chuckle. His hand shot forward, clamping down hard on Jason's jaw, fingers digging in to shut him up mid-sentence.

"Enough. Call your boss. Now."

Jason's bravado faltered as his eyes widened in disbelief. He stared at Ethan like he was insane. "W-What?" he stammered. "You want me to call Mad Tiger?"

Mad Tiger wasn't just some petty gang leader or the leader of the Ruthless Tiger gang—he was a name whispered in fear through every back alley in the city.

A ruthless kingpin with a reputation for turning disobedient underlings into examples—publicly.

No one really knew his real name. Some said he used to be a soldier, others swore he came from a crime family overseas.

What everyone did know was that Mad Tiger ran an underground empire with an iron fist— weapons, extortion, you name it. He'd clawed his way to the top by eliminating every threat without mercy.

The tiger tattoo stretched across his back wasn't just for show—it was the last thing many of his victims ever saw.

And Ethan… this man didn't even flinch.

Jason gulped hard. His voice cracked despite himself. "Don't say I didn't warn you—you're gonna regret this."

But Ethan's expression didn't change. He stared at Jason like he was nothing but a bug under his boot.

"Then make the call, put it on speaker," Ethan repeated darkly. "Let's see what your tiger does… when he realizes he just picked a fight with the wrong beast."

Hands trembling, Jason pulled out his phone and hit a contact.

It rang twice before a gravelly voice answered. "Yeah?"

"Boss, it's Jason," he stammered. "We've got a situation. Some guy took out the crew—he assaulted my brother, wrecked the bar… says he's not afraid of you."

A pause.

Then Mad Tiger's voice roared, "WHO?! Who thinks they can mess with my name?! I'll—"

Ethan leaned close to the speaker. "And how exactly will you make me pay?"

Dead silence.

"…Wait," Mad Tiger said, his voice suddenly wary. "Who is this?"

"What do you think?" Ethan said with a cold smirk. "Mad Tiger… maybe the last lesson I gave him wasn't harsh enough. Are you trying to get me to pay him another little visit… and have a nice chat?"

Then came a sharp inhale from the other end. "Oh no. No, no, no. Jason—get on your knees and apologize. Right now."

Jason gawked. "Boss?! You serious?"

"DO IT! You're messing with him. Do you want to end up in a wheelchair like me?!"

Turned out, when Ethan first came to the city, he beat Mad Tiger within an inch of his life. Ever since learning who Ethan really was, Mad Tiger wouldn't dare cross him.

Jason looked like his soul had left his body. Slowly, shakily, he dropped to his knees in front of Ethan.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled.

"Louder," Ethan said coldly.

"I'm sorry!" Jason practically shouted.

Ethan gave a small nod and turned away. "Tell your boss I said hello."

Jason bolted out of the bar like a kicked dog, dragging his dazed brother behind him.

Alice clapped once, slowly, leaning against the booth for balance. "Okay… that was hot."

Ethan finally looked at her. Her cheeks were flushed, her lipstick smudged, and her eyes glassy from the drink.

"We should get you out of here," he muttered.

"I like you more every five minutes," she slurred, stumbling into him. "Let's go somewhere quieter…"

Without another word, Ethan led her out of the bar and into the quiet night. They ended up at a modest hotel a block away.

In the room, Alice flopped onto the bed, giggling. "You're like Batman. But meaner."

Ethan chuckled. "You're drunk."

"You're hot," she replied, then sat up and kissed him—bold, impulsive, electric.

He didn't stop her. Not at first. They kissed each other, and she pulled him down with her. His hands moved to her waist, hers to his collar. Clothes began to slip away, their breathing heavy and ragged.

Then Ethan's phone buzzed.

He ignored it.

It buzzed again. He glanced at the caller ID.

Sierra.

The name slapped the haze from his mind. He answered.

"What do you think you're doing?" Sierra hissed on the line. "Picking fights, using my name to intimidate gangsters, and seducing women in public like a soap opera villain? You've lost your mind!"

"What are you talking about?" Ethan frowned, not understanding what kind of nonsense Sierra was going on about this time.

"My friend saw you making a scene at a bar and even getting into trouble with Mad Tiger. Is it true?" Sierra shouted.

"What does that have to do with you?" Ethan was speechless. They were already divorced, so why was Sierra still acting crazy?

"What does it have to do with me? If you hadn't mentioned my name, do you think Mad Tiger would have let you off so easily? You promised me you wouldn't go around telling people about our relationship!" Sierra roared, furious. She was about to lose it—he had just gotten divorced and already went to a bar with another woman, and now he even used her name to scare off a mafia thug?

Ethan was so amused by Sierra's shamelessness that he laughed in disbelief. He said coldly, "Come on, Sierra, stop thinking you're that important. Do you really believe dropping your name would make Mad Tiger back down? I don't know if you're crazy or I am. Maybe go get yourself checked into a mental hospital and stop losing your mind."

He sat still, breathing hard, staring at his phone.

Ethan turned off his phone and tossed it aside.

Alice looked at him curiously. "Was it Sierra?"

Ethan nodded. The call had calmed him down a bit. He quietly stood up and straightened his clothes.

"I'm leaving. Get some rest," he said calmly.

"But..." Alice didn't want him to go. The more time she spent with Ethan, the more she felt drawn to him—there was something magnetic about him.

"Alice...you're drunk. Don't do anything you'll regret," Ethan said as he rubbed his face, then opened the door and walked out.

Alice sat on the bed in disappointment and flopped down in frustration.

"I'm not drunk! It's all Sierra's fault..." she muttered.