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As the chaos unfolded around him, Joey wedged himself behind the bar and fumbled with his phone, hands shaking as he dialed Marco's number. The ringing seemed to stretch on forever before finally, thankfully, Marco picked up.
"Joey? What's going on?"
"Marco," Joey whispered urgently, trying to keep his voice steady. "The club is under attack! There's men with guns, they're armed—I don't know what to do!"
"Shit, the fuckin' Petrovs! Stay hidden," Marco commanded, his voice tight with concern. "I'm on my way. Just hold on, okay?"
"Okay," Joey breathed, feeling a small surge of hope at the promise of Marco's arrival.
In the midst of all this danger, it was Marco he wanted by his side.
But just before Joey could say anything else, a rough hand grabbed him, yanking him out from behind the bar. He stifled a cry of shock as he found himself face-to-face with one of the Petrov thugs, the man's cold eyes boring into him with sadistic glee.
"One more coward," the thug sneered, tightening his grip on Joey's arm. "A pretty little bartender, eh?"
"Let go of me!" Joey spat, struggling against the iron grip. His mind raced, trying to come up with a plan, but he couldn't ignore the burning heat of Marco's voice still ringing in his ear. He prayed that Marco would arrive in time, that he'd be able to save them all.
"Put him with the rest," the ringleader ordered. The man holding Joey threw him ahead of him, sending him stumbling into the rest of the girls, corralled by the stage.
The thugs—six, Joey counted—began to circle around Joey and the terrified strippers, their lewd gazes sending waves of revulsion through him.
"Please, we haven't done anything to you," one of the strippers pleaded, tears streaming down her face. Her fellow dancers clung to each other in fear, their scantily-clad bodies shaking with terror.
"Shut up!" the ringleader barked, backhanding the woman across the face.
Joey's heart raced. "Leave her alone, you coward!" Joey shouted, his voice cracking under the strain. "Does your momma know you hit women?"
The ringleader glared. He raised his hand o strike Joey—
But before he could, the sound of tires squealed on the road outside. Joey's heart leapt. The Petrov thugs instinctively ducked behind tables, shielding themselves.
The doors were thrown open. Gunfire rang out, from outside and inside in equal amounts. The girls squealed, and Joey urged them towards the back of the club. They ran for the safety of the rooms back there—
But a burst of gunfire rang out nearby. Joey dropped instinctively, protecting himself. Separated from the girls, he crawled behind the bar, the closest hiding place.
"Joey!" Marco's voice rang out like a beacon of hope through the pandemonium. The dark-haired mobster burst through the club's entrance, guns blazing, his intense eyes searching the warzone that Sinsation had become.
"Marco!" Joey cried, adrenaline coursing through his veins. Relief washed over him like a tidal wave.
Huddled in the shadows, Joey watched with wide eyes as chaos engulfed the strip club. The rhythmic thud of gunshots reverberated through his trembling body, each sound amplifying the fear that gripped him. His heart pounded in his chest, threatening to drown out the symphony of violence unfolding before his eyes.
Marco, a beacon of strength and determination, surged forward like a force of nature. His presence radiated authority, commanding attention amidst the mayhem. Joey's breath caught in his throat as he witnessed the display of lethal precision. Marco moved with an agility that defied belief, his every action calculated and purposeful.
Gunfire erupted in all directions, the air thick with tension and the acrid scent of gunpowder. Joey's eyes darted from one skirmish to another, witnessing the intricate dance of violence between Marco and the Petrov thugs. The club's once vibrant atmosphere now transformed into a battlefield, with shattered glass, splintered furniture, and the debris of a violent clash strewn across the floor.
Marco's movements were fluid and decisive, his instincts honed through countless battles fought in the shadows. His gun barked with ruthless efficiency, each shot finding its mark with deadly accuracy. The echoes of gunfire blended with the desperate cries and shouts, creating a symphony of chaos that threatened to engulf Joey's senses.
Joey clung to the shadows, torn between awe and terror. He marveled at the way Marco commanded the space, his presence unwavering and resolute. The ferocity in Marco's eyes burned like an inferno, unyielding and relentless in his pursuit of justice. In that moment, Joey knew he was witnessing something extraordinary, a glimpse into the depths of bravery and sacrifice.
As Marco fought his way through the swirling chaos, the world around Joey seemed to fade into the background. In this moment of peril and uncertainty, their connection burned brightly, filling him with an unwavering faith that together they could conquer anything.
Finally, with a burst of adrenaline and unwavering determination, Marco reached Joey's side. The world around them seemed to blur as Marco's strong arms enveloped Joey, offering both protection and a fierce declaration of love.
In that embrace, Joey felt the weight of the world lift from his shoulders, replaced by an overwhelming sense of security.
"Stay behind me!" Marco commanded, grabbing Joey by the arm and pulling him close before a corner. Joey could feel Marco's heart pounding against his chest, the heat of their bodies pressed together igniting a fire within him that seemed to burn brighter in the face of danger.
"Thank you," Joey whispered, his voice barely audible above the chaos. "Thank you for coming for me."
