Chapter 12: Meeting The Street Thugs Boss

Alicia’s ferocity caught them completely off guard. After just a few exchanges, one of their colleagues was already sprawled on the ground. The others glanced at each other; not one of them dared to rush her again. Alicia took a step forward.

They immediately retreated, faces tight with fear. Alicia could see it in their eyes. She taunted them, her voice cool. “Aren’t you men? What, afraid to fight?”

The four exchanged looks, then bolted. Alicia shook her head and continued down the street.

She had no idea Andy—whom she’d assumed had left—had actually swapped cars and witnessed everything. He tapped the armrest of his seat, silent.

His personal assistant couldn’t help but blurt out, awestruck, “Sister-in-law is so powerful.”

Andy’s expression didn’t change. He asked, “Have you done the investigation?”

A troubled look crossed Luke’s face as he sighed. “Whoever’s protecting her identity is too powerful. I tried matching her face in the national ID database, but every route leads to ‘Catherine.’ I haven’t made any headway.”

Andy gave him a sidelong glance. “You’ve grown lazy. Too much free time lately…”

Luke stiffened. He knew exactly what that meant: his dates would be canceled, and next month’s vacation would vanish. He straightened, determined. “I’ll get her details tonight.”

Andy’s lips curved. “That’s more like it.”

But his eyes remained on Alicia, who had reached the company’s front gate. A knot of street thugs loitered there—smoking, gambling, laughing. One even relieved himself against the iron bars. No staff were in sight; even the security post sat abandoned. Alicia walked toward them, unhurried.

They stared, startled. Since they’d seized the entrance and started harassing anyone who approached—hospitalizing the former manager in the process—no one had dared come near. Her appearance shocked them, and piqued their curiosity.

“Take me to your boss,” Alicia said, calm and even.

They blinked, exchanging glances. One thug bounced forward, rubbing his palms together and licking his lower lip. “How about I take you to my bed instead? I’ll make you feel good. I can last an hour—”

Alicia cut him off. “You couldn’t even last two minutes last night with the woman you brought home.”

The thug froze, eyes wide, mouth falling open. His buddies watched his face and burst into laughter, realizing Alicia wasn’t bluffing.

“Fly, you can’t even go past two minutes,” one jeered. “No wonder you brag about hours…”

Fly flushed scarlet. “She’s lying—”

“Get yourself treated,” Alicia said, not bothering to look at him. “Or it’ll only get worse.”

Fly’s expression shifted drastically.

Alicia squared up to another thug. He shrank back, worried she might embarrass him—maybe even say something about his performance.

“I need to see your boss,” she said, steady and loud. “Who’s taking me to him?”

One of the street toughs lifted a hand in warning. “Pretty lady, if you’re here to negotiate for the company, turn around. The boss won’t take any deal. One of your drivers killed his daughter. When he went for compensation, the company tried to throw its weight around—name, headquarters, all of it. That grudge isn’t going anywhere.”

“I know,” Alicia replied. “That’s exactly why I need to meet him.”

The thugs traded looks. Finally, one jerked his chin. “If you insist. Come.”

He led her through winding streets and past cramped apartments to a warehouse where workers shuffled boxes with practiced speed. The air smelled of dust and oil. Alicia said nothing, just took it in.

A huge man—six feet and hard as a wall—stood with his arms folded, watching his crew. When he turned, his face went cold; he recognized the escort as one of the men stationed at the company gate the day his daughter died.

He looked Alicia over, expression sharpening. He waited. She met his stare and refused to blink.

“Boss,” the thug muttered, uneasy, “she found us at the gate and insists on talking.”

Alicia tilted her head, a thin smile cutting across her face. “Kane, you’ve run these streets for years and have nothing to show for it—just making money for other people. You can’t even show your face in public. Hiding in this alleyway life forever? That’s a slow death. How long do you plan to stay a street rat?”

The thug flinched. He’d heard Kane, drunk and bitter, spit the same fear into cheap glasses: step outside the street and he’d be cuffed before midnight.

Kane’s eyes went cold and cruel. “Very good. Very good. No one’s said that to my face in ten years. The last man brave enough to try—well, let’s just say even his bones stopped talking.”

“They don’t have my guts,” Alicia said.

Rage flushed his face. He drew a gun and leveled it at her chest.

Alicia smiled.

“Go to hell,” Kane snarled. “Burn to ash.”

He pulled the trigger—three quick shots.

Kane’s eyes widened, shock breaking across his features.