Chapter 28

  ? Of Brains and Fists ?

  The crowd froze, stunned at the sight of Zack sprawled on the ground.

  Noor lifted her head slowly, gaze finding Alex, who stood tall in front of her.

  He finally turned, dropping to one knee.

  “Noor, are you alright?”

  Her eyes widened at the blur of Vito—

  Charging at Alex with his back turned.

  Dante came sprinting in, leaping and driving both feet into Vito’s side, who went flying, skidding to a stop beside his downed teammate.

  “Not fair!” Dante barked. “The lunatic was mine!”

  The two stood shoulder to shoulder, facing the rest of the Red Corner kids. Vito groaned, rolling to his feet. Zack still didn’t move.

  Jax only let out a low whistle. “Impressive.”

  The rest of the gang shifted restlessly.

  “We’re outnumbered, buddy,” Dante muttered. “By a lot. Ten or so up against us two.”

  Alex’s jaw tightened, feeling the wall of bodies closing in.

  “That was a good one!” Vito jeered, finally on both feet. “Nice kick, freckles!”

  “I put everything into that… Expected him to stay down for a little while.”

  Then he pointed to Zack. “Hey, lunatic! I know you didn’t go down from that. Let’s do it again—a two-on-two. Unless you’re afraid your girlfriend’s not here to save you.”

  Zack stirred.

  Slowly.

  Rising to one knee, then his feet. He brushed himself off as if nothing had happened, then smiled—a slow, wolfish curve of the mouth. His eyes locked on Alex.

  “You saved me the trouble. I was hoping I’d run into you.”

  Alex met his gaze, unflinching but wary.

  Zack’s eyes flicked to Dante. “Not interested in you. But nice try, thinking you could get around the number disadvantage.”

  Dante’s hands balled into fists.

  "Bad news." Zack declared. "We don't fight fair anymore. We fight to win."

  “Some guy you are.” Alex said, still looking at Zack, cautious.

  "I had a feeling it was him." he muttered to himself, remembering the trembling boy Tommy at Doctor Kranz's clinic, and Mira's words that the gang changed.

  The circle tightened. Knuckles cracked.

  Noor’s eyes flicked over the ring of boys.

  Alex shifted his stance, one foot sliding back as he placed himself squarely between her and the threat.

  Dante scanned the crowd like a chessboard, weighing angles, potential hits, and the timing of the first blow.

  And then—

  “ZACK!”

  The voice cut through the square.

  Mira.

  She strode forward, Tonno, Lino, and Pinch flanking her.

  “You came, Mira!” he called out, thrilled.

  But she wasn’t looking at him. Her gaze was locked on Noor—cheek bruised, lip bleeding—flanked by Alex and Dante, with the ring of boys tightening like a noose.

  “What the hell did you do this time?” she snapped, her voice cutting clear across the plaza.

  Zack pointed at Alex, like a hunter presenting a prize. “He’s here! The lucky charm punk who beat you! This is your chance for revenge!"

  "Show him who’s stronger, who’s tougher! Prove that whatever trick he almost pulled off was a fluke! That you’re the better fighter!”

  He threw his hands up and backed away. “He’s all yours. We won’t interfere. This one is your fight, your rules.”

  Vito’s jaw tensed with disappointment. Jax scratched the back of his head, shrugging, and the rest of the Red Corner kids sighed, muttering under their breath as the promise of a brawl slipped away.

  Alex’s eyes stayed fixed on Mira.

  She looked at Zack for a beat longer, then—

  Stepped into the space he’d cleared—not toward Alex. But toward Zack.

  Tonno, Lino, and Pinch kept pace at her sides.

  Zack’s heart dipped at the sight of his friend siding with outsiders.

  “What… are you doing?”

  “This ends here, Zack,” she said, voice like steel. “Stop this madness, right now. Or I am fighting you.”

  His mouth opened in disbelief.

  She means every word.

  "Mira—dammit!" The words ripped out of him. "You’d take a swing at me over him? Over an outside who you beat you?"

  “What the hell happened to you?! You were the girl who wanted the toughest opponents!"

  He swung his gaze to the others.

  “Tonno? Lino? You too Pinch?!”

  "After everything ?"

  Tonno met Zack’s eyes, ready.

  Lino’s chin lifted, gaze hard.

  Pinch stood firm, hands relaxed but ready.

  A moment passed.

  Vito was already rubbing his hands together, tongue darting out like a starving dog tasting the air.

  Jax was waiting.

  Silence.

  The kind that presses in on your ears, waiting for someone to break it.

  “To hell with all of you.”

  The words felt wrong in the air—heavy, deliberate. It was a crack in the dam, the sound of something in him snapping.

  He jerked his chin toward Alex. “Leave this punk for me. Get the rest.”

  "YEAAAAAH!" Screamed the Red corner kids.

  “A brawl! Let's go!” Vito whooped, bouncing like he’d been waiting his whole life for this.

  Jax just sighed, dropped Noor's violin, rolled his shoulder, then lunged forward.

  The rest followed, laughing, cheering, celebrating.

  The plaza exploded.

  Red Corner kids swarmed the Wolves and Dante.

  Mira barked, “Pinch! Stay by the girl's side!”

  Pinch hesitated, then nodded and sprinted toward Noor. She rushed, cautious, and reached to her violin on the ground and clutched it to her chest like a shield.

  Tonno, the biggest in the fight, was already swinging and wrestling three boys at once. They attacked relentlessly, driving at him like predators.

  Kicks to the kneecap. Knees to the gut.

  Yet Tonno resisted, shrugging off one, elbowing another, and tossing the third across the cobblestones.

  “Hah! We’re too much for you, Tonno! Give it up!”

  “Make me,” he growled.

  The three boys staggered, then righted themselves, faces alight with exhilaration rather than fear. They thrived in the chaos, feeding off each other’s aggression—their grins wide, movements sharp, eager for the next strike.

  Suddenly—

  One of them was shoved from behind.

  “What the—”

  Tonno seized the opening— a punch straight into the kid’s stomach dropped him with a grunt. Tonno smirked, recognizing a familiar pattern in chaotic fights, a subtle nudge that shifted the flow in his favor.

  Nearby, Dante was a whirlwind of movement. Two attackers closed in, but he ducked, sidestepped, and tripped one. A clean right hand landed on the first boy’s jaw. The boy shrugged off the pain, swinging wildly in reply, but Dante barely dodged.

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  "So annoying! They are like mini-lunatics!"

  The second boy charged from Dante’s side. Dante lifted his leg, sending the boy sprawling, stunned. But that left him exposed to the first.

  “Damn it!” Dante cursed under his breath.

  Then a shadow nudged the attacking boy’s side, enough to disrupt his balance.

  “Hey! Who—?” the boy started, but Dante didn’t wait. He saw the opening and drove a knee into the gut, making the boy double over.

  Dante glanced to the source.

  “Nice one, you weasel!” to himself.

  It was Lino.

  Sneaking in through the chaos, Lino slipped between thrashing arms and legs. He didn’t throw a single punch, but a well-timed shove here, a brush against a stumbling attacker there, sent openings spilling toward Tonno and Dante. Each stagger and stumble he caused was enough.

  Pinch stood in front of Noor, his small frame a flimsy shield. She still hadn’t recovered from Zack’s blow, eyes flicking warily over the battlefield, lips pressed thin.

  “I’ll stick by the girl, just like Mira said,” he whispered, bouncing on his toes.

  “And I’ll do more! I’ll… cheer for everyone—GO TEAM, GO! Let’s show them who the real Wolves are!”

  Across the plaza, the three constables from earlier watched from the shade.

  “We should’ve stopped this when the girl got hit,” said the younger one, voice firm. “Enough of this. Let's take them in.”

  “We were about to,” the older one replied, leaning on a post. “But her friend rescued her. And what—jump into that mess of teenagers, looking all pathetic?”

  The scarred constable, quiet until now, chuckled. He glanced at the emptying square. “Weather’s bad, plaza’s quiet. Let ’em swing a bit—young blood earns its lessons with fists.”

  Alex faced Zack, who was cutting his way into the chaos.

  Eyes fixed on what he saw as prey.

  Alex didn’t blink. Locked in.

  "Don't rush. I'll look for an opening, like I did against Mira."

  Zack lunged, wide, brutal swings cutting through the air. Alex dodged—once, twice—but Zack didn’t relent.

  The third swing came.

  Alex, mid-motion, threw his usual move, the signature tackle, driving his full weight into Zack.

  Surprise flickered across Zack’s face—this was the first time he’d felt Alex’s real power. It wasn’t size or bulk; it was the strength of someone used to hauling, lifting, and scrambling over rugged hills. Core tight, legs rooted, every sinew trained from a childhood of work and movement, Alex hit with an unassuming force that belied his frame.

  Zack planted his feet, trying to wrestle back.

  But—

  Nothing.

  Alex shifted, sliding a leg behind his heel, anchoring himself like someone who’d carried a farm’s worth of weight without ever looking heavy.

  Then—Zack’s pupils vanished for a split second, a throat-shredding scream tearing out of him.

  “DAMN YOUUUU!”

  Rage propelled him.

  The kind that had been forged in alleys, in dirt, in endless fights for survival—propelled him.

  Slowly.

  He pushed back.

  A knee slammed into Alex’s gut.

  A follow-up swing clipped his chin.

  Alex staggered.

  Zack growled,

  “Is that all—”

  He never finished.

  Alex regained his footing, planted a foot, and, a solid uppercut into Zack’s jaw.

  Both boys reeling, bleeding, bruised.

  “I figured you’d run off, claiming you were helping your buddy,” Zack said, eyes like stone.

  “They won’t lose. Dante and the others won’t lose,” Alex said, firm.

  “Oh right. Remind me to introduce you to Jax and Vito later.” Zack replied, a shadow of menace in his voice.

  The Wolves pressed forward, their opponents, the Red corner gang, were driven back step by step.

  “Good,” Lino muttered, slipping through the crowd, still unnoticed. “We got this—”

  Until he wasn't.

  A hand clamped his shoulder.

  “Crafty as ever, Lino?”

  Jax’s fist crashed into his face. Lino stayed upright, jaw tight.

  “I knew you’d be up to something,”

  Blood on his lip, Lino laughed.

  —and bolted back into the chaos.

  Jax didn’t hesitate. He cut through the brawl

  —only to meet Mira head-on.

  A left jab snapped his head.

  “Lino! Keep doing your thing!” Mira barked, eyes locked on Jax.

  “Thanks, Mira! You're the boss!” Lino vanished into the fray.

  Mira planted her feet, jabs slicing the air—sharp, fast.

  Jax slipped the first, the second, closing the gap.

  "He is good..." Mira’s eyes narrowed.

  He whipped a kick at her stomach—

  She slid aside, pivoted—a straight right to his face.

  Jax stumbled, groaning, but he recovered, feet steady, expression unreadable.

  Mira raised an eyebrow. “Ain’t you coming for me?”

  Jax tilted his shoulders, almost lazily. “Hmm… on second thought, no.”

  Three kids crept toward Mira from behind. Her eyes widened, tracking them instantly.

  “Better to conserve,” Jax said softly, his gaze sweeping the brawl. “The fun begins once everyone’s tired. Vito knows the drill too.”

  Dante was still locked with the same two Red Corner kids, slipping their swings, hitting back, relying on reflex and brains. His breath came sharp, but his mind ticked faster.

  "Wait. Where’s the kid with the feather earring that I kicked in the beginning? I’ve seen everyone else but him..."

  He didn't get to finish — A weight crashed into his back. Dante hit the ground hard, the wind blasting out of him. Vito’s face filled his vision.

  “Did you miss me?”

  Then the fists came. Each blow rattled through Dante’s guard.

  He curled tighter, arms locked around his head, but Vito sat heavy on his chest, relentless.

  The other two piled in—boots slamming into his ribs and back.

  Dante's guard slowly dropped. Eyes shut. Mouth wide open.

  “One down! He ain't much after all!”

  Vito gave one last shove, and peeled off.

  “Had to give that one a run back,” he muttered under his breath, eyes sparkling with mischief. “But… gotta stick to the plan. Me and Jax will save our energy for the true fireworks in the end.”

  Dante’s body stayed still for a beat. His eyes flickered open slowly, just enough to catch their retreat. His mouth split into a grin.

  “Close one,” he muttered through blood and grit. “Took the beating… but they bought that I'm done.”

  Alex and Zack were still trading blows.

  Another right hook came tearing in. Alex dipped under—breath hot in his throat—then shot his leg up.

  His boot slammed into Zack’s stomach.

  Zack grunted, staggered a step, then answered with a hammering left–right into Alex’s ribs. Pain lit his side, but Alex’s eyes sharpened—he’d caught the rhythm.

  Zack swung again. This time, Alex twisted with it, hand snapping out.

  His backfist cracked against Zack’s jaw.

  Zack’s fury grew with every second, his fists hammering forward like he couldn’t stand the idea of the soft boy still standing.

  Alex kept slipping, arms snapping up to block, slipping counters in where he could... but Zack’s punches carried too much weight.

  Each block rattled his arms, each step back made his legs feel heavier. The pressure was relentless, the same crushing inevitability he’d seen Dante crumble under.

  "He is scary and durable, that's it."

  "Strikes hard but full of openings." Alex's mind raced.

  "Mira was harder to deal with. I just need to dodge more than block, stay patient and keep hitting him."

  "Eventually he will go down."

  Zack dipped low, winding his left arm from the hip. Alex’s eyes locked on it—coiled power, a rising arc that promised to tear through him if it landed.

  He braced, ducking forward, ready to shoot in and wrap Zack up before it came loose.

  But the left stopped short.

  The shadow fell from above instead—Zack’s right hand, already cocked high, dropping fast like a hammer.

  The Guillotine—

  The air split as it came down.

  Alex snapped his arm up in desperation. The fist crashed against his guard, a jolt running through bone and muscle. Pain shot through him, but he’d blunted it, just enough to stay upright.

  For a moment, Alex thought of Dante—how he had crumbled under the same kind of pressure, smothered by sheer endurance.

  His chest heaved. His fists trembled.

  "He is really insane. Staying calm in front of him is... impossible. At this right, I'll lose."

  "What should I do ?"

  "What is wrong with you? Don’t you care what happens to your friends?! They may be getting hurt!" Alex yelled.

  “I care enough to let them fight. If they stumble, it’s a lesson they need to remember now that she turned soft! And I won’t coddle anyone, not even Mira!”

  And then—his opponent’s face blurred, shifted.

  Instead of Zack... for a moment, there was someone else.

  Not a kid.

  A man.

  Blonde, facial hair, glasses and dressed all in black.

  A voice like gravel, cutting through the haze.

  "I can reach you whenever I want. I don’t need to grab your coat."

  "One slip. One pattern. That’s all I need."

  Alex remembered—the ship in chaos, sailors screaming over a prank.

  Robert and Giovanni bleeding on the floor from their own guns in the bar.

  The corner of his mouth twitched into a smirk that didn’t belong on his face, too sharp for someone so soft.

  “…So Zack is your name?”

  “Spare me the ‘friendship’ sermon,” Zack cut in, preparing to swing again.

  Alex’s gaze locked on him.

  “Mira… she’s pretty.”

  Zack flinched.

  Alex tilted his head, curious.

  “…Funny. Earlier, you stepped aside. Gave her space to fight me to get her revenge.”

  “You respected her street rules. Spoke differently to her than the others. Did it bother you that much when she lost?”

  “I saw your face the other day—when you dropped Dante mid-fight and came at me instead.”

  “Just when I was about to land one hit.”

  “Don’t touch her. That’s what you said back then.”

  Alex let the memory hang between them.

  “Dante said you were laughing like a maniac the whole fight…

  But in that moment, I remember you didn’t.

  No grin.

  No thrill.

  You didn’t enjoy it.

  You looked like you were actually… fighting for something—

  genuine.”

  "QUIET!" Zack snapped. "You don't know anything!"

  "She is both ... strong and beautiful. I don't really blame you. But do you know what I think?"

  Alex leaned in a little, voice soft but sharp as glass.

  “She’ll never feel the same for you.”

  Zack’s stomach dropped.

  Behind him, the chaos of the brawl faded, as if the world itself had paused.

  “You saw how she looked at you, right before the fight. Your ways are different.”

  “You want them both—your thrill for violence, and her by your side.”

  “You can’t.”

  “SHE WILL COME AROUND!” Zack screamed. "I KNOW SHE WILL!"

  Alex’s words slithered out, deliberate, sharp as ice.

  “She’s not even here. She’s busy protecting her real friends, Zack.”

  “Maybe… maybe she’s stopped even caring about you.”

  “And you… you’re already out of her world.”

  For a heartbeat, Zack froze.

  His chest heaved, his eyes wild, pupils dilating as if Alex’s words had lit a fire inside him.

  Then it snapped—an invisible fuse burning out.

  With a roar, he lunged. Not the rage he’d shown before, but raw, blinding fury. Every swing of his fists screamed obsession, not power this time.

  Alex felt it immediately.

  He sidestepped a punch, timing it perfectly. His fist shot out, connecting with Zack’s cheek.

  Then he followed through, launching a tackle. Both hit the cobblestones hard. Zack’s back hit the ground; Alex landed on top, chest pressing down, pinning him.

  Zack gritted his teeth, a fury that cracked them echoing in the plaza.

  He reached to poke Alex's eye.

  Alex pressed his face into Zack’s shoulder—just out of reach.

  With his legs, he wrapped around Zack’s, holding him in place, every movement locked, every escape blocked.

  Then—

  Fist after fist rained down.

  Alex’s eyes reflected conflict. Every punch tore at him inside. He hated this—the raw violence. He hated seeing someone beaten.

  But this was Zack.

  Not just someone he can beat with power and technique.

  This was the boy who unleashed a savage mauling on Dante, not holding back one bit.

  The bully who hit Noor, the one who had quietly fed him, given him advice, and eased his fear in this city.. And he was about to keep going.

  He could not back down.

  Finally, Zack’s fists stilled. His body went slack beneath Alex. A shallow breath whispered out, and his chest rose slowly beneath Alex’s weight.

  Out cold.

  Alex breathed in, slowly, then out, trying to push the surge of anger and guilt down. His hands dropped. A bitter twist coiled in his chest—he hated that he knew exactly how to get under Zack’s skin.

  Dominick’s manipulations had sunk in… And now Alex wielded them himself.

  A few tears slipped unbidden down his face.

  He’d fought before, but never like this—

  Never knocked someone out cold.

  Never rained fists on a person pinned beneath him.

  Never used words to twist them like this.

  His body was screaming, every muscle trembling, every breath sharp—but he forced himself upright, limping toward the chaos, still wanting to do what he could.