Chapter 5: Throwing Weight Around

In the torn back seat of a beat-up van, Byron sat in the middle, flanked by a thug on either side. The air reeked of smoke and sour sweat, and he frowned. "Kid, do you even know how deep a hole you've dug for yourself?" one jeered. Byron shot him a look and stayed silent. Another chimed in, voice oily. "Our boss isn't someone you cross. In Zerton, his name means something. You broke his daughter's legs. If he doesn't skin you alive today, you can consider yourself lucky." "That so?" Byron let out a cold, thin laugh. "We'll see who's skinning who." "Whoa, listen to the tough guy," the thugs cackled, excited by his nerve. They couldn't wait to see what happened when he met the boss. The van barreled through city streets and soon pulled up to the Drumgon Clubhouse, a high-end palace of polished stone and glass. Security in black suits stood at the doors like statues. Jace and the crew hustled Byron inside. Gold and light poured from everywhere. A huge crystal chandelier scattered brilliance across the room. The thick carpet swallowed their footsteps. Gilt frames held expensive oils, flaunting the owner's taste. They went down a long corridor and stopped at a private suite. Jace rapped lightly.  A deep voice from within said, "Come in." Jace pushed the door open and led Byron through a curtain of smoke into the dimness.  Eugene Zorn lounged on a massive leather sofa, scantily clad women at his sides, glasses winking in their hands. Behind him, a wall of burly enforcers stared Byron down, eyes like knives fixed on him. "So you're Byron Qualls?" Eugene spoke in a mocking, sing-song tone. "You're the one who broke my girl's legs?" Byron arched a brow. "That thing's your daughter? I thought I put down a rabid dog." No one expected him to spit venom like that on Eugene's turf. Eugene shot to his feet, palm slamming the table, eyes blazing. "Do you even know who I am? In Zerton, nobody talks to me like that." Byron's lip curled. "Sure, I know you. Your whole family's trash." "You!" Eugene's rage boiled over into a broken laugh. "Fine. Fine. Fine. An ex-con just out of prison, puffing up in front of me. All these years, you're the first." "Dad!" a voice cried outside. Emily rolled in on a wheelchair, pushed by a lackey. She glared at Byron, eyes throwing sparks. "He broke my legs. Dad, you have to avenge me! Carve him up and feed him to the fish!" Eugene gave a tight nod and flicked his gaze at his men. A slab of a man stepped forward. He was Edwin, a notorious enforcer of the Drumgon Society. He loomed over Byron, clamped both hands on his shoulders, and growled, "Kid, you're real full of yourself. I hear you got a pretty little sister. In a minute, I'll have the boys bring her here, and we'll have ourselves a good time. Right in front of you." "Haha, count us in!" the Drumgon boys whooped. "Edwin gets first crack, then we line up!" Byron's eyes went winter-cold. "You're begging to die." He snapped his hand up, seized Edwin's wrists, and twisted. Crack! Edwin's forearms corkscrewed; bone splintered. "Ahhh!" He screamed, hit the carpet, and writhed. The suite went silent. Mouths hung open. That mountain of a man folded in Byron's grip like a rag doll. Eugene's face drained, then went thunderous. He hadn't expected Byron to make a move on his turf. "You think you can hurt my guy?" he barked. "Do you know why I came?" Byron's gaze bored into him. "Touch my sister, and I'll kill your entire family." He looked down at Edwin flopping on the floor, mercy nowhere in him. He lifted his heel and stamped on Edwin's neck. Crack! The clean snap of bone cut the air. Edwin sagged and went still. Death fell over the room. They stared at Byron, stunned by how ruthlessly he took a life. He looked so young, yet he killed as easily as breathing, and with ice in his veins. "Th-that kid is vicious," a small-time hood stammered. "He's really an ex-con? How does he have that kind of strength and cold-blooded nerve?" another whispered. Eugene's face was almost black with rage. He fixed his stare on Byron, fury and murder rising like a tide. "Get him! Hack him to pieces!" he roared. The Drumgon Society scrambled and grabbed whatever was near. Machetes, iron rods, baseball bats came up in a tight ring around Byron, eyes full of malice. Byron stood relaxed in the middle. He narrowed his eyes, taking them in. "Kid, you're not getting out of here today," one punk snarled. Byron's smile thinned and became contemptuous. "You think you can stop me?" One punk lunged first, swinging a machete for Byron's skull. The blade flashed cold under the lights, hissing through the air. Byron didn't bother to dodge. He shot out his hand and caught the blade, steady as stone. "Huh?" The punk yanked. The blade didn't budge. Byron squeezed. The machete snapped in two. "Impossible!" Shock rippled through the room. Solid steel, snapped in his bare hand. "All together!" someone shouted. They rushed as one. Byron kicked. Power detonated. Bang!  Bodies flew, seven or eight of them, and slammed into the wall. Chests caved, organs burst, blood sprayed. They were dead on impact. The rest recoiled, terror written all over their faces. "H-how is that even possible?" whimpered one who hadn't moved. In the panic, the Drumgon Society's ace enforcer, Kason, finally showed his hand. Tall and thick with muscle, he hefted a massive sledgehammer. While Byron's attention drifted for a second, Kason ghosted behind him. He raised the hammer high and brought it down for Byron's head. "Die!" The hammer howled through the air, as if it could smash anything to powder. Byron heard the wind's warning and tilted his head. Whump!  The hammer slammed his skull with a dull, heavy note. Kason's eyes went wide. He couldn't believe what he saw. Byron rolled his neck as if easing a kink, a strange smile crossing his face. "This guy's a monster!" Kason yelped, dropped the hammer, and broke for the door. Byron had no intention of letting him run.  Whoosh!  He flung out his hand and closed it around Kason's throat.  Kason stared up at him, mind went blank. He tried to fight, but nothing in his body answered. Byron tightened his grip and twisted Kason's head. Crack!  The bones parted. Kason's head came off. Blood geysered and spattered the nearest men. The headless body fell to the carpet and stayed there. Silence smothered the room again. Byron's raw might cowed them all. They looked at him with fear and something akin to awe. Eugene stood numb. He had never imagined his fiercest enforcer would die that easily at Byron's hands. At last, a chill crawled up his spine. He began to realize he had provoked something far beyond him.