Page 41 of King of Rage

He stumbled across the street, barely able to keep himself upright. He was drunk almost to the point of collapse, a bottle hanging loosely from his hand as he staggered along the empty street.

“I have to get to Darla.” He took another drink, then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “If I can get some money out of that bitch, I can use it to buy another lottery ticket. I’ll win this time. I know I will.”

His eyes lit up at the thought, and a drunken grin spread across his face.

“I’ll be rich. Fucking rich. And then those bastards who keep coming after me will be begging me for money. They’ll be kissing my ass, begging me for favors.”

He drank again and continued stumbling forward.

He barely noticed the black car that came to a stop nearby.

Before David could properly react, four men dressed entirely in black suddenly jumped out of the vehicle.

They moved toward him without saying a word.

David's eyes widened.

“What the—”

The first blow sent him staggering backward.

Then the others joined in.

The empty street filled with the sounds of the brutal assault as David tried to protect himself, raising his arms and stumbling backward, but he was hopelessly outnumbered.

He cried out and struggled to catch his breath, but there was little he could do against four men who had clearly come prepared.

The beating continued beside the black car until David could barely remain conscious, his body crumpled on the pavement as he struggled for breath.

The four men eventually stepped away.

For a moment, the street fell silent again.

The black car remained beside him, its dark windows revealing nothing about the people inside.

A short distance away, a figure stood in silence, watching the scene unfold.

Lucius leaned against the side of the black car, a cigarette held between his fingers. The faint glow at its tip illuminated his face whenever he drew on it, but it did little to soften the dangerous expression in his eyes.

He watched without saying a word as David was beaten bloody on the deserted street. His face remained cold and unreadable, but the hard set of his jaw and the darkness in his gaze revealed the depth of his displeasure.

A few moments later, Nial approached him quietly.

“Mr. Frost,” he said, stopping at a respectful distance. “I’ve made him understand. David is going to leave the city and never come back.”

Lucius took another drag from his cigarette, his gaze never leaving David.

Then he gave Nial a brief nod.

Nial immediately turned away and walked back toward his men, allowing them to continue the beating.

Lucius remained where he was, his attention fixed on David as one of the men seized him by the back of his neck and hauled him off the ground before throwing him several feet away from the road.

Only then did Lucius finally speak, his voice low enough to be almost lost beneath the sounds of the struggle.

“I waited an entire year for Stella to come back to Manhattan,” he muttered, his eyes narrowing as he watched David. “I won’t let anyone make her leave this city again.”

He took one last drag from his cigarette before lowering it to his side, his expression hardening.