Chapter 8: Hard to do? Then don't.

Words : 2040 Updated : Jan 22nd, 2026

"Hey, wait a second." Ander Yale had just walked out of Juggins Group when a sweet voice called him back. He turned and smiled. "Secretary Balam, do you need something else?" Eve Balam was a little out of breath, her tone chiding. "Seriously, whatever Leonard Zimmerman says, you just do like a fool?" "I chased you down to tell you-don't take this job. Someone could end up dead." Ander looked unconcerned. "It can't be that dramatic. I'm going to take back the Juggins family's goods. That's only right, isn't it?" Eve stomped her foot, frustrated. "Are you not listening, or are you actually dense?" "Did you not read the file? That million dollars' worth of goods was seized by Benji, Zerton's top black boss." "Our group has talked with Benji's people several times already, and nothing came of it." "Even Ms. Juggins, before her incident, couldn't get the goods back. If you go alone, you're asking to die." Ander shrugged. "No big deal. You don't know until you try." "And I'm not a guy who only talks reason. If reason doesn't work, I do know my way around a fight." Eve ground her teeth. "Fine. Ms. Juggins told me to keep an eye on your hard head." "I'll go with you-just take a spin, put on a show for Leonard." "When we get back, we'll say we couldn't do it. You apologize to Leonard and let it blow over." Ander said nothing. Apologize? Ever since he came out of prison, he would never bow to anyone. If he couldn't bend, he'd break the problem instead. The young secretary, Eve Balam, drove them out of the Zerton City Area to a large logistics warehouse in the suburbs. They parked. Eve got out. "This is the place. This whole area is Benji's turf." Ander stepped out and gave it a casual glance. "Yeah, it's big. Looks like Benji lived well in Zerton." Eve bristled at his blasé attitude. "Just 'lived well'? In all of Zerton, Benji eats other gangs alive. Even old families don't dare cross him." Talking as they went, they reached the management office by the storage area. Before they even stepped in, thumping music and rowdy shouts from a drinking game blasted from inside. Eve eased the door open. "Um, hello. We're employees of Juggins Group. We'd like to see your manager." The music cut off. A dozen shirtless thugs, high on booze, turned with a chorus of curses. "Dammit, Juggins Group again." "Here for your shipment, huh? Didn't Zachariah already say it? Bring a million as ransom, or send your two beauty bosses to keep Zachariah company for a night." They burst into filthy laughter, breath reeking of alcohol. Eve was just a young woman; fear seized her and she stammered, lost for words. Ander pulled her behind him and walked toward Zachariah in the center, smiling. "Zachariah, right? I'm a junior employee of Juggins Group." "Our bosses are way out of your league. Them sleeping with you? Not happening." Zachariah, a scar-faced man in his early forties, sprawled on a big sofa, shirt carelessly open, a mat of chest hair on display. Behind him, a gaudy woman in torn fishnet stockings kneaded his shoulders. "If you won't send them to sleep with me, then bring the million-dollar ransom." "Otherwise, kid, you know the rules. Come ten thousand times and Zachariah won't give the Juggins family a damn thing." Ander kept his easy smile, dragged a stool over, and sat. "Zachariah, harmony brings wealth, they say." "That million dollars' worth of goods belongs to the Juggins Group. Swallowing it whole for no reason is out of line, isn't it?" Zachariah snorted, flinging his legs onto the table, swaggering. "So what if I swallowed it? Ask around-has anything that went into Benji's belly ever come back out?" Ander rubbed his brow. "Zachariah, you're just bullying us." Zachariah roared with laughter. "Kid, you said it. Benji loves bullying people." "You get a fat wallet from killing and stealing; build bridges and do good, you get a nameless grave. If we don't bully you, where do we get the cash to live it up?" His lackeys chimed in, cackling with pride. Eve went pale and tugged Ander's sleeve. "Let's go. We've done what we could. We can't get the goods back-don't stir up trouble." Ander didn't move. "Zachariah, with that attitude, you're making this hard for me." Zachariah smirked. "I'm making it hard on purpose. What can you do?" Ander stood, shrugged off the new jacket he'd bought after getting out of prison, and handed it to Eve. "Eve, hold this for me." Eve took the coat, baffled. "Ander, what are you doing?" Ander grinned at Zachariah, who was savoring his massage, white teeth flashing. "If it's hard, then to hell with it-don't do it." In Eve's stunned stare, bang! The table flipped under Ander's kick and slammed into Zachariah's face. A shrill scream tore through the room. Zachariah clawed up from the floor, blood streaming, and bellowed, "Kill that little bastard-kill him!" The lackeys were caught off guard by the sudden strike. Spurred by Zachariah's roar, they snatched up whatever they could, some grabbing blades, others roaring as they rushed Ander. These street punks were vicious, fast, and merciless. A dozen came at once, many armed. Any ordinary man would have been wrecked. But Ander wasn't ordinary. His face went cold. His leg lashed out like a whip. Bang, bang, bang! Four or five punks in front took it full in the face, screaming as they flew back and toppled a row of shelves. Ander didn't let up. With one punch, he smashed a swinging machete into shards. The man holding the blade went ice-cold. He could shatter a blade with a punch-was he even human? Ander seized the man by the head and slammed him left and right-bang, bang-plowing through bodies and flooring four more. Zachariah yanked a dagger from his waistband and drove it at Ander's back with a roar. "Die!" The dagger struck Ander, and nothing happened. The Nine Suns Divine Skill had long since forged Ander Yale's invincible body. Ordinary weapons were scrap against him. Zachariah's mouth went dry. "You… you…" Ander clamped a hand around his throat and lifted his two-hundred-plus pounds like a chick. "The Juggins family's goods-Zachariah, are you going to hand them over?" Zachariah spat curses. "Even if you can fight, Benji won't fear you." Ander smiled, flicked his right foot, and kicked the dropped dagger up, drawing a line across Zachariah's ear. Zachariah clutched the side of his head, shrieking, "My ear!" The few lackeys still on their feet-usually game to brawl-were scared witless. Damn, this guy was too strong. Not just strong-vicious. He said he was a junior employee at the Juggins Group-who would buy that? "Zachariah," Ander asked mildly, "can you hand over the goods now?" "Yes, yes-brother, stop! I'll give you the goods right away-ow…" Ander tossed him to the floor. "Good." "Oh, and your ear. Pick it up yourself. I'm not helping." Zachariah's face twitched hard. He wanted to die. He ground out, "Leonard Zimmerman, that bald bastard-he didn't even warn me a tough guy was coming." "When I get back, I'm taking his head." Ander arched a brow. "Zachariah, you and our manager Leonard are close?" Zachariah snarled, "That prick kept telling me not to release the goods." "This way, the Juggins Group would have to cough up cash, and he'd split it with me." Ander's smile broadened. "So our Leonard is a traitor." "When we get back, his time in that manager's chair will be over."

Chapter 8: Hard to do? Then don't.

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