THE BILLIONAIRE'S BODYGUARD IS THE SYNDICATE LORD

Chapter 2 First Face-Slap

 

The alley smelled like stale rain and rotten trash. Three black sedans blocked our path, their high beams cutting through the gloom and blinding my eyes.

"Stay in the vehicle, Miss Sterling," I said, putting the gear shift into park.

Evelyn gripped the armrest, her knuckles turning white. "Are you insane? There are at least twelve of them. Call municipal security right now."

"Security takes twenty minutes," I replied, adjusting my cheap dark suit jacket. "I take two."

I stepped out into the damp air, locking the door behind me. Rain tapped against my shoulders. So, this was Julian’s welcome package. He really thought a handful of hired muscle could intimidate a CEO.

A heavy-set guy with a rusted crowbar stepped forward, spit landing on the wet asphalt near my shoes. "Hey, rent-a-cop. Leave the girl and walk away. Maybe we only break one of your legs."

"My suit costs two hundred dollars," I told him, rolling my cuffs up carefully. "Try not to bleed on it."

The crowbar swung toward my temple with a lazy, predictable arc. Sloppy. Slow. The Black Iron Fortress used to train us by dodging live ammunition in total darkness. This felt like watching a turtle crawl across a highway.

I took a half-step inside his guard, grabbing his wrist. A quick twist sent the crowbar flying into the air. Before he could scream, I drove my palm directly into his sternum. Air exploded from his lungs, and he dropped into the puddle like a sack of wet flour.

The remaining eleven men froze.

"What are you waiting for?" the leader roared from the back. "He’s just one guy! Take him down!"

They rushed me all at once, swinging iron pipes and flicking open cheap pocket knives.

Anyway, fighting a crowd isn't about strength. It’s about geometry and positioning. I kept the fallen guy between me and three attackers, using him as a temporary barrier. When the first knife lunged for my ribcage, I caught the attacker's elbow, redirected his momentum, and let him stab his own buddy in the thigh.

A pipe whistled toward my knee. I stepped back two inches, letting the metal hit empty air, then slammed my heel down onto his foot. Bone crunched beneath my shoe. I followed up with an elbow to his jaw. He went limp instantly.

Inside the car, I could see Evelyn’s wide eyes staring through the reinforced glass. Her jaw was slightly slack. She expected a quiet, meek ex-convict who took orders without complaining. She certainly didn't expect a meat grinder.

Three minutes later, nine men lay groaning in the mud, clutching broken ribs, dislocated shoulders, and ruined knees. The leader was the only one left standing, his knees trembling as he held a trembling switchblade.

"Who... who sent you?" he stammered, backing away toward his sedan. "You aren't a normal security guard!"

I walked over to him slowly, my footsteps echoing in the quiet alley. The aura I usually kept buried deep inside—the terrifying pressure of the Sovereign Lord—seeped out just a tiny bit. The air pressure seemed to drop ten degrees. The leader choked on his breath, his eyes bulging in sheer terror as his knees gave out entirely. He hit the pavement without me even touching him.

I picked up a discarded handkerchief from the ground, wiped a drop of mud off my leather shoe, and tossed the cloth onto his face.

"Tell Julian Hayes that his taste in hitmen is as poor as his taste in women," I whispered.

I turned around and walked back to the Sterling sedan, unlocking the driver's side door. The entire scuffle had taken less than three minutes. My pulse hadn't even spiked past seventy beats per minute.

I sat down, pulled the door shut, and put my hands back on the steering wheel at ten and two.

"Where to next, Miss Sterling?" I asked, my voice calm and polite. "The office or your private residence?"

Evelyn didn't answer right away. The silence inside the luxury cabin was heavy, broken only by the quiet hum of the air conditioner. She leaned forward, her sharp blue eyes locking onto the side of my face with intense, razor-like scrutiny.

"You didn't flinch," she said, her voice dropping into a dangerous, quiet register. "You moved like a military operative, Vance. No cheap bodyguard moves like that."

"I took self-defense classes in prison," I lied smoothly, checking my rearview mirror.

"Don't lie to me," Evelyn snapped, her posture rigid as she leaned closer to the front seat divider. "Those men were trained enforcers from the local docks, and you broke them without breaking a sweat. Who the hell are you really?"