One of Preston’s lackeys finally found the courage to speak, but the response he received was worse than cold.

“You demand an answer.” Alfie’s eyes cut straight through him like a razor. “Do you think the security cameras in my bar are just for show? If that fool hadn’t tried to lay his hands on Ms. Tilda, none of this would have happened.”

Before the man could reply, Alfie’s foot slammed into his chest. The impact launched him backward. He hit the floor hard and rolled, clutching himself as screams tore from his throat.

The rest of them froze in place. Not a single one dared to even speak. Their hearts pounded so heavily they thought the sound might betray them. Every last one of them wanted to crawl into the floor and disappear. They prayed to God that Alfie had not noticed them. They all knew how far Alfie’s power extended in Slosa. If he set his eyes on them, Preston’s protection would be worthless. By sunrise, their families could be erased from the city as if they had never existed.

“Beautiful work, Alfie! That’s it, keep crushing them! Bastards came after my precious Tilda! Make them wish they were never born!” Una’s voice rang out, sharp and eager. She hopped in place, her fists flailing like the paws of a playful but furious kitten, overjoyed to see justice carried out.

Alfie glanced at her, and the faintest trace of a smirk tugged at his lips. His strikes grew sharper, every kick laced with more fury.

“Alfie?”

The crowd gawked in disbelief. She had spoken his name with casual ease, as though he were some college buddy. And instead of bristling at the disrespect, Alfie seemed entertained.

Whispers spread like wildfire. Curiosity churned in the air as eyes darted to Una. She looked so young, hardly out of college, yet she spoke to the heir of the Woodward Group without a shred of fear.

Tilda’s voice rang clear, smooth as glass. “Alfie, I need some hangover cure.”

Alfie turned his eyes to her, the weight of his gaze impossible to ignore. A small smile lifted his mouth. “Of course.” He eased back a few paces, giving her the space she wanted.

Preston’s men stiffened, their faces drained of color. None of them could tell if Alfie was about to let them live or if he was setting them up for their end.

Then Tilda’s words cut the silence like a judge’s gavel. “Stand up and come at me together. If you manage to beat me, we will forget all of this. But if you lose, no matter how badly you end up bleeding, you will have no one to blame but yourselves.”

Tilda rolled her shoulders, her joints snapping with a crisp crack. Fire still churned through her body. The alcohol in her veins and Preston’s vile touch had only stoked her rage. If she didn’t burn it out now, it would smolder inside her all night.

“What—what did you just say?” one of them muttered.

The words barely left his lips before Tilda struck. Her leg shot out and slammed into a man’s stomach. His body lifted like a rag doll, flew across the floor, and smashed into a stack of tables thirty feet away. He didn’t even get out a scream before his body went slack.

Alfie moved to Una’s side in one smooth step, his presence towering. His eyes glinted with frost. “If you don’t fight now, you’re already finished.”

That snapped the lackeys awake. Their survival instincts roared inside them. Their eyes hardened into feral glares as they lunged at Tilda. They either fought, or they perished.

To them, she was only a woman. If they won, maybe they could live. If they stood still, they were already dead.

Tilda spun, her heel whipping into one man’s jaw. His body flew into another, sending both crashing down like toppled pins. She snatched up a bottle from the table, and with one brutal swing, shattered it across another man’s skull. Glass burst like fireworks, spraying across the floor.

The brawl turned into a showcase of her wrath. One by one, they collapsed, broken bodies piling around her. Their groans vanished beneath the bass still thrumming faintly through the bar’s speakers.

When her fury finally drained, Tilda exhaled, her breath sharp but steady. Una slipped from Alfie’s protective shadow and skipped toward Tilda. With a triumphant grin, she pulled a handkerchief from her purse and lifted it high. “Tilda, do you feel better now?”

Tilda wiped at her brow and gave a short nod. “A little better.”

Then she drove her foot into Preston’s limp body. “Take this worthless bastard and get him out of my sight in ten seconds.”

“Yes… yes!” The survivors stumbled to their feet, their bodies aching and broken. They dragged Preston’s dead weight across the floor, scraping together the last of their strength to flee the bar.

Only once they were gone did Alfie turn back to the women. “Are you both alright?”

Una crossed her arms, her lips pursed in frustration. “We’re fine. Those idiots could never hurt our Tilda. But Alfie, you need to step up your security here. We came here to relax, not to get harassed. You can’t just let every random nobody wander in. You need to start checking who you let through those doors. This is supposed to be the best bar in Slosa.”

Gasps rippled through the onlookers. They could not believe their ears. Una had just chewed out Alfie Woodward, the heir of the Woodward Group, as if he were some sloppy bouncer. She had to be insane.

Yet Alfie only smiled, his expression softening with warmth. “Alright. Whatever you say, I’ll handle it.” He reached out and ruffled her hair gently, like a man spoiling the one person he could never refuse.

The crowd nearly fell apart. What in God’s name are we watching here? Have our eyes betrayed us? Did the world change when I didn’t notice?

Alfie wasn’t just ignoring her disrespect. He was indulging it, treating her words like gospel. The men stared, dumbstruck.

Una wasn’t nearly as polished or striking as Tilda, but Alfie was clearly drawn to her. The women seethed with envy. They would have traded their souls to stand where Una stood, even if it lasted for just a single night with Alfie.

It was the only explanation. Una had to have saved the universe in another lifetime. Nothing else could explain why Alfie Woodward treated her with such tenderness.

Even Tilda’s eyes widened as she watched the two together. This can’t possibly be real. Could it?