Chapter 82: Versus Mafia
The subway station’s isolated corner was a cold, little light from street lights and passing trains overhead casting shadows across the glinting train tracks below.
I sighed deeply, my breath clouding in the chilly air, my face settling into a bored, neutral despite. "This is gonna be a tiring night," I thought to myself under my breath, my eyes flicking over the scene—the bats, the girls, the men closing in.
*Crunch.* Michael, the cigarette guy, tossed his butt to the ground, grinding it under his boot with a slow, deliberate twist.
His lean frame straightened, his dark jacket rustling as he stepped toward me, his eyes narrowing.
"So, he’s Ezra, huh?" he said, his voice low and sharp. He tilted his head, sizing me up, his cigarette-stained fingers flexing.
Raya piped up, her voice trembling but laced with that same sly edge I’d caught before. "Y-yeah, Michael, he’s Ezra," she said, her lips twitching into a smile. "He seduced us when we went to the club to enjoy ourselves."
I almost snorted, my mind racing. *Who comes to a brothel to enjoy themselves?* I thought, the absurdity hitting me hard. These guys—Michael, Henry, the bat-wielding goons—seemed too brain-dead to argue with, too caught up in their own drama to see the obvious. I kept my face blank, my hands still in my pockets, letting the moment play out.
Michael stepped closer, his boots scuffing the concrete, and pulled out Raya’s phone, shoving the screen in my face. There it was—a photo from just hours ago, me, Raya, and Kalina on the brothel’s bed, naked, smiling, their hands on my dick and then he slide to the next photo where they are kissing my dick.
My stomach twisted, but I didn’t flinch, my eyes flicking from the screen to Michael’s face, his jaw tight, his glare venomous.