Imdiately he clenched his fists tightly, forcing himself to stand tall despite the fear creeping into his chest. ’No. I won’t let it end like this. If they can’t do it, I’ll do it myself.’
Even though deep down he knew Oliver wasn’t normal that he was clearly stronger than anyone he’d ever faced, his pride wouldn’t let him back down. With a defiant scowl on his face, he stepped forward, hiding his unease behind a mask of arrogance.
Oliver stood silently, calm and composed, his eyes fixed on the boss with cold precision. He didn’t smirk or taunt. He didn’t even posture. He simply stood there, steady, then he began walking towards the boss.
At that mont the boss let out a short laugh, masking the tremor in his voice. "You think because you took them down, you can take down too?" he sneered, raising his chin slightly. "You’re about to find out there’s a big difference between the lackeys... and the boss."
However, Oliver didn’t say a single word as the boss tried to brace himself, his breathing heavy and uneven. Every step Oliver took toward him only made the tension rise. The boss adjusted his footing, tightening his fists, pulling them up into a defensive guard. His eyes narrowed, scanning Oliver’s movents, trying to read him, trying to predict what he was about to do.
But Oliver didn’t posture. He didn’t circle. He didn’t even flinch, he just walked forward.
Step by step, Calm, Controlled and Silent.
By the ti Oliver stopped, he was standing face-to-face with the boss so close the boss could feel his breath against his skin.
For a split second, there was silence. The boss opened his mouth, ready to spit so insult, ready to throw a punch.
"CRACK!!!"
Oliver’s fist shot out like lightning, slamming directly into the bridge of the boss’s nose. The sound was sharp and sickening, followed imdiately by a spray of blood. The boss stumbled backward with a strangled cry, his hands instinctively flying to his face.
"My nose! You broke my nose!" the boss shouted, voice muffled behind his bloody hands. "What the hell is wrong with you?! Who even are you?!"
But Oliver didn’t answer. His face was stone, eyes cold and unblinking.
In one swift motion, Oliver grabbed the boss by the collar, yanking him forward until their foreheads were nearly touching. The force made the boss’s knees buckle slightly, his blood dripping onto Oliver’s knuckles.
The boss froze when he saw Oliver’s expression up close, there was no rcy there. No hesitation. Just cold resolve.
In that mont, the boss knew really knew he was finished.
At that mont, the air in the parking lot turned heavy, so heavy it felt as if even the distant noise of cars had gone silent. Oliver’s grip on the boss’s shirt tightened, pulling him closer until there was barely an inch between their faces. His eyes bore into the man’s, sharp and unblinking, and when he finally spoke, his voice was deep, low, and bold the kind of voice that left no room for negotiation.
"I’m going to ask you one question," Oliver said, his tone calm yet terrifyingly firm. "And you’re going to give a simple answer. No gas. No lies."
The boss’s breath hitched, his bloodied hands still clutching at his broken nose.
"If you even think of playing smart with ..." Oliver leaned in even closer, his tone dropping to a near growl, "...if you give the wrong answer, or you stall, I swear, what I did to your n will look rciful. I pitied them. I only knocked them out."
Again his grip yanked the boss even more closer, the fabric of the man’s shirt twisting in Oliver’s fist.
"But you?" Oliver continued, his eyes narrowing. "I’ll break every joint in your body. One by one. I’ll make sure you can’t even hold a spoon when I’m done. You understand ?"
Imdiately the boss swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing as sweat started to bead along his temple. Every fiber of his being scread to fight back, but his body refused. He knew, he couldn’t win against Oliver. Not now. Not ever.
Oliver held him there for a mont longer, letting the weight of his words settle in. Then, in that sa bold voice, he asked the question.
"Like I said before," Oliver growled, his tone razor-sharp. "Who sent you?"
At that mont, the boss froze, his entire body trembling as Oliver’s words sank in. The threat wasn’t empty; every bone in his body told him Oliver would follow through without hesitation. The cold fire in Oliver’s eyes left no room for doubt.
The boss’s mind raced. He knew exactly who had sent him. He also knew what revealing that na would an, chaos. If Oliver found out, the fallout between him and his own brother would be irreversible. The boss pictured it clearly: Oliver turning against family, his businesses collapsing, his reputations ruined. And for him? If the truth got out, there would be no coming back. No safety. No hiding. His face would be known as the one who spilled the secret.
But keeping quiet ant enduring Oliver’s wrath, and that was sothing he wasn’t sure he could survive. The mory of how easily Oliver had dismantled his n flashed in his mind.
Then Sweat rolled down his temple as he stood there, frozen in terror and indecision.
At that mont Oliver’s voice cut through the silence again, this ti deeper and harsher than before, his patience fraying.
"I won’t repeat myself again," Oliver growled, his grip on the boss’s shirt tightening until the fabric strained. "Who. Sent. You?"
The boss clenched his teeth, still silent, still hesitating. For a split second, he thought maybe he could endure it — maybe he could take whatever Oliver was about to do.
However he was wrong.
Without warning, Oliver shifted his weight and stomped down viciously on the boss’s leg.
"CRACK!!"
The sickening sound of bone snapping echoed through the parking lot, followed by the boss’s bloodcurdling scream. Pain exploded through his body, white-hot and unbearable, dropping him to the ground instantly.
imdiately he clutched at his shattered leg, writhing in agony, tears springing to his eyes.
Fueled by agony and desperation, he broke.
"It was your brother!" the boss scread, his voice raw. "William! William! your brother!"
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