The car ride felt like it lasted forever.
Liam sat wedged between the two massive n in the back seat of a black SUV.
The interior slled like leather and cigarette smoke.
The windows were tinted so dark he couldn’t see outside. The driver up front didn’t say a word, just kept his eyes on the road.
Leather Jacket sat to Liam’s left, arms crossed, staring straight ahead. Hoodie sat to his right, scrolling through his phone like this was just another Tuesday night for him.
Liam’s heart hamred in his chest. His palms were sweating. He kept his hands on his knees, trying to look calm even though his mind was racing.
’What the hell is this about? Did I piss soone off? Did I accidentally deliver to the wrong person? Did soone think I stole sothing?’
He ran through every delivery he’d made in the past week, every interaction, every custor. Nothing stood out. Nothing that would warrant getting grabbed off the street by two guys built like bodyguards.
The car turned off the main road, then again onto a side street. The buildings got older, more run-down. Streetlights beca sparse.
They passed a chain-link fence, then an empty lot filled with rusted equipnt.
Finally, the car slowed and pulled into a narrow alley between two crumbling brick buildings.
At the end of the alley sat an old warehouse. The kind that looked like it hadn’t been used in decades. Broken windows. Graffiti covering the lower walls. A rusted tal door hanging slightly off its hinges.
The car stopped.
"Out," Leather Jacket said.
Liam didn’t argue. He climbed out of the SUV, his legs shaky. The air outside was cooler now, the wind carrying the faint sll of trash and old oil.
Hoodie grabbed Liam’s shoulder and steered him toward the warehouse entrance. Leather Jacket walked ahead, pushing the tal door open with a loud creak.
Inside, the warehouse was dark. A few work lights had been set up, their harsh white glow cutting through the shadows.
The floor was concrete, cracked and stained with God knows what. Old wooden crates were stacked against the walls. Steel beams crisscrossed overhead, so of them sagging.
And in the center of the open space, under one of the work lights, sat a single tal folding chair.
Across from it, about ten feet away, was another chair.
Soone was sitting in it.
Liam squinted, trying to make out details. The figure was male, average build, wearing dark jeans and a black jacket. But his face was covered by a smooth white mask—featureless except for two eye holes and a thin slit for the mouth.
’What the fuck is this?’
Hoodie shoved Liam forward. "Sit."
Liam stumbled toward the empty chair and dropped into it. The tal was cold against his back. His hands gripped the edges of the seat.
The masked figure leaned back slightly, head tilting as if studying him.
For a long mont, no one spoke.
Then the figure leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.
"Hello," he said. His voice was calm, almost friendly. "I’m Mr. L."
Liam blinked. "Mr. L?"
"That’s right."
Liam’s confusion deepened. "What... why am I here? What do you want?"
Mr. L tilted his head again, the mask catching the light. "That’s a nice question."
Before Liam could respond, Mr. L raised one hand and snapped his fingers.
Hoodie stepped forward from behind Liam’s chair.
And punched him square in the face.
The impact exploded across Liam’s jaw. His head snapped to the side, pain radiating through his skull. He tasted blood imdiately—his lip had split against his teeth.
"Fuck!" Liam gasped, clutching his face.
He looked up at Mr. L, eyes watering, completely bewildered.
"What the hell was that for?!"
Mr. L didn’t answer right away. He just sat there, hands clasped together now, watching Liam through the mask.
Then he spoke again, his tone still disturbingly calm.
"I was sent by my client," Mr. L said slowly, "to teach you a lesson about having sex with his woman."
Liam froze.
His entire body went cold.
’Oh shit.’
His eyes widened.
’Elena.’
’They were sent by Elena’s husband.’
’I’m fucked. I’m completely fucked.’
His mind raced. Elena—the woman he’d hooked up with a week ago. Older, gorgeous, married to so rich guy.
She’d been forward, aggressive even. He hadn’t thought about consequences. Hadn’t thought about her husband finding out.
And now he was sitting in an abandoned warehouse with a masked man and two goons who looked like they could snap him in half.
Mr. L seed to notice the realization dawning on Liam’s face.
"Ah," he said, sounding almost pleased. "There it is. You’ve figured it out."
Liam swallowed hard, his throat dry. "Look, I didn’t know—"
"Didn’t know what?" Mr. L interrupted. "That she was married? Or that her husband is one of the richest n in the state?"
Liam said nothing. His jaw throbbed.
Mr. L leaned back again, crossing one leg over the other casually. "Relax. My client didn’t actually want us to hurt you. Not really."
Liam’s confusion returned. "Then why—"
"Because I wanted to," Mr. L said simply.
"I’m kind of a jealous bastard, you see. Hearing about soone like you getting to fuck soone like her..." He trailed off, shaking his head. "It bothered ."
Liam stared at him.
Mr. L’s tone shifted, becoming almost conversational. "So tell , Liam. How was it? You got to hit one of the richest won in the state. What was it like?"
Liam blinked, completely thrown by the question.
’Is he serious right now?’
He didn’t answer.
The silence stretched.
Mr. L sighed, then raised his hand again.
Hoodie stepped forward.
"Wait!" Liam blurted out, throwing up his hands. "Wait, okay, I’ll answer!"
Mr. L lowered his hand. "Go on."
Liam hesitated, then the words started spilling out.
"It was... it was the best feeling in the world," he said, his voice shaky but honest. "She had a perfect ass. Perfect tits. Everything about her was just... perfect. The way she moved, the way she—"
He stopped himself, realizing how much he was saying. "It was the best I’ve ever had. Hands down."
Mr. L didn’t move for a mont.
Then he started laughing.
It wasn’t a small chuckle. It was a full, genuine laugh that echoed through the empty warehouse.
Liam, caught off guard, found himself almost smiling despite the situation. The absurdity of it all—the laughter was infectious.
And then Mr. L snapped his fingers again.
Hoodie punched Liam in the face a second ti.
"Fuck!" Liam shouted, doubling over, clutching his jaw again. Fresh blood trickled from his lip.
The laughter stopped abruptly.
Mr. L’s tone beca cold. Serious.
"Listen carefully," he said. "My client wants you to stay away from his woman. Miss Elena. You don’t call her. You don’t text her. You don’t go anywhere near her. Understood?"
Liam nodded quickly, still holding his face. "Yeah. Yes. I got it."
"Good." Mr. L stood up from his chair. "Because if you don’t, next ti we won’t just punch you. Next ti, we’ll actually kill you."
Liam’s blood ran cold.
Mr. L gestured toward Leather Jacket and Hoodie. "Take him back. Drop him where we found him."
The two n grabbed Liam by the arms and hauled him to his feet. His legs felt like jelly, but they half-dragged, half-walked him back to the SUV.
The ride back was silent.
Liam sat in the sa spot, between the sa two n, staring at the floor. His jaw ached. His lip was swollen. He could still taste blood.
When the car finally stopped, Hoodie opened the door and shoved Liam out onto the sidewalk.
Liam stumbled, caught himself, and looked up.
They’d dropped him right where they’d grabbed him.
The SUV’s door slamd shut, and the vehicle pulled away, disappearing into the night.
Liam stood there for a mont, clutching his jaw, trying to process what the hell had just happened.
Then he started walking.
His apartnt was only a few blocks away. His legs felt heavy, his head foggy. Every step sent a dull throb through his face.
By the ti he reached his building and climbed the stairs to his floor, exhaustion had fully set in.
But when he reached his door, he stopped.
It was slightly open.
Just a crack.
’What the...’
His heart rate picked up again. He pushed the door open slowly, carefully, half-expecting soone to be inside.
The lights were off, but the dim glow from the streetlights outside filtered in through the window.
And there, sitting on his couch, were several boxes.
Liam stepped inside, closing the door behind him. He flicked on the light.
The boxes were wrapped neatly. A new gaming console. A high-end controller. A stack of new gas. A pair of expensive headphones.
On top of the largest box sat a small white card.
Liam picked it up and opened it.
The handwriting was elegant, feminine.
*I hope these make you smile. —Elena*
Liam stared at the note for a long ti.
Then he looked at the gifts.
Then back at the note.
"You’ve got to be kidding ," he muttered.
He dropped onto the couch, still holding the card, his jaw throbbing, his mind spinning.
’I just got threatened with death... and she sent gifts.’
He didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.
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