Chapter 29

  ? Alpha Wolf in the Plaza ?

  The rain came at last, thin needles at first, then steady. From their post, the three constables drew back under a ledge.

  “Blowing up rough now. Perfect atmosphere.” muttered the older one, rubbing his cap brim.

  "The boy… he’s sobbing. Even though he won." the younger muttered, eyes lingering on Alex with a trace of unease.

  The older snorted, shaking his head. “Pushover. That’s no sort of grit for these streets—or for a proper brawl.”

  The scarred one’s gaze flicked elsewhere, voice low. “Not bothered with them. Look at the girl over there.”

  “Boxing, eh? I knew that stance,” the older said with a grunt. “Dirty business. Still banned in the streets for a reason. But a young lass, trained like that? Makes a man wonder who taught her.”

  The scarred one let out a low chuckle. “I’ve fought in those underground pits myself. Can’t forget the stink of sweat and blood on the floor.”

  In the meanwhile, Mira moved like a storm let loose. Three boys already lay curled on the cobbles, groaning, as she closed in on the third.

  He swung wildly, a desperate hook. She slipped under it, her shoulder grazing his ribs, then drove a fast jab into his nose. His head snapped back. A right cross followed, cracking against his cheekbone. He staggered, guard flailing. She closed the distance, chest to chest, and hammered an uppercut. He hit the stones hard.

  Her torso rose and fell in quick, uneven bursts.

  Her mind raced.

  "Where’s Zack now? What happened in his fight with Alex?"

  "Is Lino still assisting the others? Tonno… is he holding up? Pinch and the girl?"

  "What about Jax and Vito ? If they are saving their energy for later... It will get worse for us."

  She ground her teeth. "Damn it!" Every muscle ached, every step felt heavier than the last, but she couldn’t stop. Not now. Not while everyone was still in the fray.

  Then—she saw it.

  Vito stood tall, one foot planted casually on Tonno’s knee.

  Scratching his nose. No sweat broken.

  Tonno writhed beneath him, clutching his kneecaps and legs, gasping in bursts of pain.

  Every movement drew a grunt, every shift seemed to wrench something deeper.

  Vito’s face was clean, unmarked, eyes bright and teasing. Not a bead of sweat, not a hint of strain.

  “TONNO!” Mira screamed, rushing forward.

  Vito glanced at her, a slow, confidently smiling, “Well, well… Mira.” His voice was low, teasing, but the threat behind it was clear.

  “One down,” he said, tapping his foot lightly on Tonno. “And you? All worn out. I hope you’re ready...”

  Alex moved through the chaos, arms tight, shielding, deflecting. Rain plastered his hair to his forehead, hiding whatever passed over his face.

  No one could read him—grim, blank, unreadable.

  The Red Corner kids swarmed him, stripping his jacket, pushing him down. One boot hovered over his back, ready to strike.

  “Down you go, piglet!” a boy sneered.

  A body flew backward, knocked off balance. Dante landed beside Alex, crouched low.

  “Buddy!” he called, reaching for him.

  Alex sat on the wet ground, shoulders trembling, face hidden in his hands. Sobs shook him, streaks of rain and tears running together. His eyes, red and raw, barely lifted as Dante knelt beside him.

  The fight with Zack had drained him utterly, leaving nothing behind but raw exhaustion and the ghost of what had to be done

  “Hey! Is it the lunatic, Zack?!” Dante asked, voice urgent, scanning the aftermath.

  Alex shook his head.

  Dante’s eyes widened. Outside the chaos, he glimpsed Zack sprawled on the ground.

  Alex had won—but the look on his face told a story Dante didn’t need to hear.

  Whatever it took to put Zack down, it had left Alex hollow, shuddering under a weight no victory could lift. Panting heavily, his eyes red and wet.

  Seeing his friend like this burned in Dante’s gut.

  An injured bully was rushing Dante, sensing the opportunity.

  "I'm not done here, freckles !"

  Dante sprang, furious, a fist smashing into the boy’s jaw.

  “JUST STAY DOWN ALREADY!”

  The bully crumpled.

  But movement stirred behind him.

  Another attacker.

  A shadow swung wide—too fast, too close.

  Dante twisted, but he was late.

  Alex caught it. Arms trembling, the blow slammed into him like a hammer. His body folded under it, boots scraping as he stumbled back. His guard slipped. The strength just wasn’t there—he crumpled, landing hard on his side.

  He didn’t hit back. Couldn’t. His breath shook, eyes glassy, mind far from the fight.

  The attacker raised his arm again, grinning at the opening.

  And then—

  Dante surged in, shoving Alex aside with his shoulder, planting himself between. His arm shot up, meeting the strike mid-swing. The impact rang up his frame, but this time it held.

  Dante didn’t budge.

  Then, a calm, sinister presence moved through the rain. “Make way.”

  Jax, eyes closed, a cruel, lazy smile curling his lips, stepped forward.

  Beside him, Lino lay sprawled on the cobblestones, one eye swollen shut, groaning through the pain.

  “Sweeping time’s begun,” Jax murmured.

  Dante glanced at Alex. He was rising slowly, body trembling, posture faltering, dragging his weight as if the fight had sucked every ounce from him.

  The boy’s expression was flat, sad, a child forced into a storm he no longer wanted to face.

  Before Alex could falter further, Dante caught him mid-sway, arms firm and steady.

  “Rest, buddy. I got this one,”

  Dante said, voice soft, unwavering.

  Alex’s gaze dropped to the cobblestones, refusing to meet anyone’s eyes. “Just… a little time to catch my breath.”

  Dante’s eyes flicked to Jax.

  His stance was light but ready, movements measured—he had conserved what he could, and is now ready to let it out for his friend and brother.

  Jax surged forward.

  He loaded a hook—fast, coiled—but never released it, letting the feint draw a reaction.

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  Dante stepped lightly aside, reading the fake, ready for the next move.

  Then Jax struck, a low kick aimed at Dante’s stomach, which was caught effortlessly.

  A smirk tugged at Dante’s lips. Triumph, quiet and sharp: he’d seen through the feint.

  But then—Jax didn’t hesitate.

  With a fluid motion that made Alex’s stomach drop, he launched his other leg high, spun into a backflip, and broke free from Dante’s grasp, the weight shift freeing his leg midair.

  He landed… slightly off, a minor wobble—but with a sinister laugh, he brushed it off.

  “Ah, oops. Not quite perfect landing… maybe it’s the rain,” he murmured, eyes gleaming.

  Dante froze for a heartbeat. "What… was that?"

  Alex’s fists twitched.

  The swirling guilt and fear from earlier no longer held him; sharpened by the sight of Dante in real danger and the move Jax just made.

  Every fiber screamed to move—but his legs felt like lead, lungs burning. He stayed rooted, teeth clenched.

  Vito drew in a sharp breath, eyes wild. With a sudden burst, he leapt, arms flying in a sweeping arc, tackling over Mira in a flashy, almost reckless display.

  His momentum carried him like a bull through the fray, spinning slightly midair as he aimed to overwhelm.

  Mira twisted, tried to pivot, footwork slicing through the motion—but her lungs burned, muscles screaming, and her body betrayed her in the end.

  He landed atop her, pinning her to the wet cobblestones from the rain.

  “Remember the other day?” he hissed, eyes glittering with triumph. “You had me then… now it’s my turn.”

  Mira curled into herself, arms raised in a feeble guard.

  Then—Pinch.

  He hurled himself at Vito’s arm, teeth sinking into flesh.

  “Pinch!” Mira gasped.

  Vito screamed in pain, then shoved the small boy violently, slamming him onto the ground with a thunderous crash. "Why are you even here, Pinch!"

  The impact echoed, rain splattering across the plaza. Pinch howled, clutching his side.

  “Vito! Let him go!” Mira’s voice cracked, desperation bleeding through, as she tried to stand up.

  Vito paused, hand still pressing where Pinch’s teeth had bitten. He lifted his leg, aiming for a kick—

  Noor had thrown herself onto Pinch’s back, bracing against the strike like a mother protecting her cub. Pinch’s body jolted, buried in Noor’s arms, a mixture of shock and instinctive panic rattling through him.

  Vito’s eyes widened, the tiniest flicker of disbelief crossing his face. The girl— clearly non-fighter—had thrown herself into a battle that was never hers.

  “You still here?” he sneered.

  He exhaled slowly, glancing over at Jax, who was approaching Dante and a tired Alex, preparing to attack: The Red Corner kids, many of them sprawled or knocked down earlier... were rising again.

  “C’mon… can’t stop now!”

  “Don’t let ‘em see you hurt!”

  “Blast it… this ain’t over…”

  Their bruises and scrapes did little to slow them; Jax and Vito stood like twin pillars, untiring, their presence feeding the others with a grim, steady confidence.

  Mira’s barely standing right.

  Tonno and Lino lay still on the ground, their injuries deep, knees and ribs battered, breaths coming in harsh wheezes.

  Their eyes, once determined, now flickered with the first shadows of defeat—the kind that settles in the soul.

  Vito’s gaze swept the circle of chaos.

  “The Plaza, the slums and the name 'Wolves' are OURS!”

  He paused, savoring the moment.

  Then, with measured precision, he lifted his leg, preparing to stomp down on Noor, who clung to Pinch, trying to shield him from the inevitable.

  "HEY!"

  A voice rang out, full of command.

  A weight dropped into the square—not with a crash, but a presence. The chaos paused, if only for a second.

  All eyes turned.

  A figure approached—not in a panic, not in a strut. Measured. Focused. Jaw tight, eyes locked.

  “BACK. OFF. NOW !”

  Vito’s body froze before his mind could even register why.

  Jax, Dante and Alex turned instinctively.

  the Red Corner kids blinked, baffled.

  Noor lifted her head slowly.

  Her eyes found him.

  Mira’s breath hitched.

  Her stance faltered; her knees wobbled, barely holding her up.

  The storm she had carried for hours, fear, exhaustion—shattered inside her.

  Hot tears ran unchecked down her cheeks, tracing paths she didn’t notice.

  Her mouth trembled, parting with the quietest gasp, and for a moment she could do nothing but lean on herself, shaking.

  Somehow, just him being there made the weight lift, a tether snapping inside her chest.

  Two voices broke through the silence:

  “No way!”

  Tonno’s face lit up and joy in his voice.

  “Leo?!”

  Lino’s eyes widened, his pain forgotten, a grin creeping across his face as he began standing up.

  Pinch didn’t hesitate. He broke free and ran—not caring about the pain or the danger.

  His voice cracked.

  “You’re… you’re here!”

  A brief pause as his eyes brightened.

  “HE’S BACK! LEO IS BAAACK!”

  The plaza wasn’t a battlefield anymore.

  It was a home regaining its foundation.

  Vito found himself under a calm, unyielding stare.

  Fists loose, relaxed, yet every line of him said: one step closer, and I break you.

  In front of Noor, his arms opened, a silent invitation to rise.

  She reached out slowly at first, then faster, gripping his hands as he lifted her to her feet.

  Pinch tugged at Leo’s sleeve.

  Leo glanced down, worried. “What’s happening here, Pinch?”

  “It’s Zack!”

  Leo froze.

  “He’s fighting us!” Pinch’s voice cracked. “These kids...” He pointed toward the red-corner boys. “They’re with him!”

  Leo looked up, scanning the field, looking for Zack.

  Instead, a calm figure walked.

  Jax.

  He passed by Alex and Dante without a word, his smirk aimed directly at Leo.

  “First time seeing you.” His tone was casual. Ironic. Mocking.

  Vito, regaining his swagger, wiped the corner of his mouth and stood beside Jax.

  “So you are Leo ?” He gave him an up-and-down glance. “You carry yourself well, I’ll give ya that.” He chuckled.

  No answer.

  Jax cocked his head. “You gonna pick a side? Or are you just gonna bark?”

  Leo’s voice was even. “Already did.”

  Both Jax and Vito blinked—small, involuntary.

  Jax turned toward Vito, still smiling. “You taking this one?”

  Vito grinned, bumping his fists together. “You know it. Not a stitch of tiredness yet.”

  Then came the words that made even Jax and Vito hesitate, if only for a breath.

  “Both of you. Together. Come.”

  The calm in Leo’s voice carried weight, measured and unshakable, and for a moment, their swagger faltered.

  Both boys stared at him in silence.

  Then Vito laughed again, louder this time. “Hah! He thinks we’re just some average street brawlers!”

  Jax’s eyebrow rose. “Don’t kid yourself, boss—you don’t want both of us at the same time.”

  No answer came at first.

  Instead, Leo shrugged off his jacket, folded it, and set it gently on the ground.

  “A boy half your size, and the girl who was shielding him. That is what you chose earlier.”

  “One on one is too much respect for you.”

  Vito cracked his knuckles in excitment.

  Jax's gaze turns serious.

  Pinch caught Noor’s hand, tugging her back just enough to clear a path.

  She moved without a word, but her eyes never left Leo.

  And then—when she glanced over at Pinch—she saw it.

  The small boy, eyes bright, a grin spreading across his face.

  Like he’d been waiting for this moment all along.

  Dante’s put a hand on Alex's back. “A’right, let him handle those two and let's focus on the rest of the gang.”

  A beat. “Did you rest?”

  Alex nodded, "A little, yes." but his gaze drifted back to where Zack had fallen. The spot was empty. His stomach twisted.

  Zack was gone.

  A chill ran down his spine, sharp and immediate.

  Every instinct screamed—he was in real danger.

  Not just from Zack, but from what he had done to him and its consequences.

  The punches, the manipulation, the way he’d cornered him, dragged secrets and feelings into the open—he had stripped Zack of pride, of control, of reason.

  The plaza felt bigger, shadows deeper, the rain slicing sharper across his skin.

  The voices, the shouts, even Dante’s calm presence felt distant, muffled.

  His heart hammered. His mind raced. “Where… is he?”

  Clink.

  Clink.

  Clink.

  Somewhere in the downpour, Zack sat cross-legged, hidden from the world.

  Water coursed down his hair. His face held nothing—no anger, no grief—

  Just a blank stillness.

  A knife point tapped against the wet cobblestones in a steady rhythm, sharp against the patter of rain.

  He didn’t turn toward the noise of the brawl.

  Didn’t blink at the bustle somewhere beyond.

  Only the faint spray of water glimmered nearby, tracing the curve of stone that shielded him from view.

  His breath moved slow, even, as though the world outside him no longer existed, patiently, recovering.

  How do you think this will unfold with Zack ?

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