Broberry McArthur crashed through a nearby table, sending bottles flying across the polished floor. Glass shattered in every direction, the sharp crack echoing through the club.

For a split second...

Everything stopped.

The music still played in the background, but it suddenly felt distant beneath the chorus of shocked gasps rippling through the crowd.

Broberry groaned and slowly pushed himself upright. He wiped the blood trickling from the corner of his mouth before staring at the crimson stain on his fingers.

His expression darkened.

"You..."

His voice came out low and dangerously calm.

"...You actually hit me."

A laugh escaped his lips.

"Hah..."

It started as a chuckle, then grew louder and louder until it echoed across the dance floor.

"By the time I’m done with you, pretty boy, no one would be able to recognize you!"

He rolled his neck, the joints cracking audibly, before lifting his bloodshot eyes to Luca.

"Do you have any idea who I am?"

Luca calmly adjusted the sleeve of his jacket.

"I don’t really care."

Broberry sneered.

Luca shrugged.

"But I’m wondering if you’re always this noisy after getting punched."

A few people nearby instinctively covered their mouths, barely suppressing their laughter.

Broberry’s face twisted with fury.

"You’ve got guts, brat."

Without another word, he lunged.

His massive fist tore through the air like a battering ram.

WHOOSH!

Luca shifted sideways just before it connected.

The punch sailed past him and slammed into a marble pillar.

CRACK!

Thin fractures spread across the polished stone.

A wave of shocked murmurs swept through the club.

"What strength..."

"If that had landed..."

"That kid would’ve been dead."

Broberry ripped his fist free and attacked again.

Another punch.

Then another.

Each one carried frightening power.

Each one missed by inches.

Luca wasn’t a trained martial artist. He had never spent years inside a boxing gym or an MMA cage.

But he wasn’t exactly a slacker at the gym. Even he knew a thing or two about fighting, after all he’s had quite a few fighting experiences over the past year.

More importantly...

His opponent was drunk.

Broberry’s attacks were devastating, but they were also predictable.

Luca watched every movement with complete focus.

’Too wide.’

He ducked beneath a sweeping hook.

’Too slow.’

A straight punch whistled past his shoulder.

’And far too reckless.’

Every missed strike drained more of Broberry’s strength.

Around them, the spectators stared in amazement.

"He’s actually keeping up..."

"Look how calm he is."

"I would’ve run already."

"That guy’s fearless."

A few people had already begun recording with their phones.

Meanwhile, Amelia stood frozen only a short distance away.

Her fingers were clasped so tightly together that her knuckles had turned white.

Every time Broberry threw another punch, her heart lurched.

’Luca...’

She could barely breathe.

Broberry let out a furious roar.

"Stop running!"

His fighting style changed without warning.

Instead of throwing another punch, he suddenly drove his knee upward.

Luca reacted immediately.

But this time...

He wasn’t quite fast enough.

BAM!

The heavy knee slammed into the side of his waist.

Pain exploded through his body.

His breath caught in his throat as he staggered back several steps, one hand instinctively pressing against his side.

’Damn...’

’That actually hurt.’

Amelia’s face instantly turned pale.

"Luca!"

Broberry’s grin widened.

"There it is!"

Before Luca could fully recover, the gangster charged again like an enraged bull.

Luca planted his feet.

His breathing steadied.

His eyes never left Broberry’s movements.

’His guard’s completely open.’

Just before Broberry reached him...

Luca twisted his hips.

BANG!

His leg whipped through the air with explosive force.

The kick landed squarely in Broberry’s stomach.

The giant man’s eyes widened.

All the air left his lungs in one violent gasp.

His enormous body folded forward as he stumbled onto one knee.

The entire club watched in stunned disbelief.

"No way..."

"He actually brought Broberry to his knees..."

"Impossible..."

Luca ignored the throbbing pain in his side.

His instincts screamed at him.

’Now!’

He moved without hesitation.

His body spun smoothly.

BANG!

His first kick slammed into Broberry’s temple.

The gangster barely had time to react.

BANG!

A second spinning kick crashed into the opposite side of his head.

The impact snapped Broberry’s head sideways.

His eyes rolled back.

His massive frame swayed once.

Twice.

Then the underground king collapsed face-first onto the marble floor with a thunderous crash that echoed throughout the club.

Silence.

Absolute silence.

No one moved.

No one spoke.

Only the sound of Broberry’s labored breathing disturbed the stillness.

Luca took a slow breath before walking toward the fallen gangster.

He looked down at the unconscious man.

"Hmph."

"You talked too much."

With one final motion, he nudged Broberry’s ribs with the side of his shoe.

"Next time..."

"...learn to keep your hands to yourself."

Broberry didn’t so much as twitch.

Several security guards exchanged uneasy glances, none of them daring to step forward.

Amelia stared at Luca in complete disbelief.

Only moments ago, she had been terrified.

She’d genuinely believed no one would help her.

Yet the instant Luca had returned, he’d stepped between her and Broberry without the slightest hesitation.

She had watched him take a painful hit.

She had seen him grit his teeth and fight through it.

Even then...

He had never once considered backing down.

A strange warmth spread through her chest.

Her heartbeat refused to slow.

’He’s... incredible...’

For the first time in her life, the feeling was unmistakable.

She had fallen for him.

Completely.

Around the club, whispers spread like wildfire.

"He... he actually beat Broberry McArthur..."

"Is this real?"

"I thought Broberry always traveled with bodyguards."

"Looks like he came alone tonight."

One guest swallowed nervously.

"...His gang isn’t going to let this slide."

"They’ll definitely come looking for revenge."

"That young man’s in serious trouble."

Another quietly shook his head.

"No."

He looked toward Luca with a complicated expression.

"I think Broberry just picked a fight with the wrong person."

The unconscious gangster remained sprawled across the shattered dance floor, surrounded by broken glass and overturned furniture.

Everyone present understood one thing.

Tonight wasn’t the end of the conflict.

It was only the beginning.