Petra pulled over and parked the car.
Charlotte called the police, then pushed open the car door. “Petra, come with me!”
Outside the bar, the night was deep and dark. Neon lights flickered, casting a hazy, surreal glow.
Two men were propping up a woman who was clearly unconscious from drinking. Behind them, four more men loitered nearby –six in total. Every one of them looked sleazy, their eyes gleaming with a twisted hunger, like wild animals in the dark, waiting
to pounce.
Charlotte rushed toward them, shouting, “What do you think you’re doing? Let her go!”
The air reeked of alcohol.
Megan’s cheeks were flushed, her eyes glassy. Her expression was clazed and helpless as she murmured, “Hot… I feel so hot… it’s uncomfortable…”
Charlotte narrowed her eyes at Megan, who was slumped between the two creeps. Something wasn’t right. Megan didn’t look just drunk.
“You drugged her, didn’t you?” Charlotte’s voice rose in fury, glaring at the group of men.
Under the red neon lights, their faces looked twisted and grotesque.
One of them, a man in a black tank top with tattoos up and down his arms, gave Charlotte a sleazy grin and said in a mocking tone, “Well, well, another hottie shows up. What, you wanna party with us too? We don’t mind adding you to the fun.”
He let out a disgusting laugh.
The other men chuckled along with him, their laughter lewd and filthy.
A few pedestrians passed by. Some glanced over curiously, while others hurried away, clearly not wanting to get involved.
Charlotte let out a cold laugh and snapped, “You’re
e a toad pretending to be a prince. Ugly and gross.”
The tattooed man’s face darkened. “What did you just say to me?” he barked, spitting as he launched into a string of filthy
curses.
Charlotte casually rolled her wrists, cracking her knuckles, her expression cool and taunting. “What’s that smell? Did you just finish licking a toilet?”
A dangerous glint flashed in her eyes. “Oh, you want to play?” she scoffed. “Fine. I’ll play with you. Just don’t come crying and begging for mercy later.”
The tattooed man laughed arrogantly. “What a loudmouth little tramp!”
The air went still.
Then the man shouted, “Boys, get her! Rip that mouthy bitch’s clothes off!”
Charlotte didn’t flinch. She turned slightly and ordered Petra in a cold voice, “Don’t hold back.”
“Got it, Miss Riley,” Petra replied coolly.
The men sneered, clearly underestimating the two women.
One guy with bleached yellow hair raised a beer bottle and swung it toward Charlotte’s head.
Before it could land, Petra grabbed his wrist. With a sharp crack, she dislocated his arm. The guy screamed in agony as the bottle slipped from his hand and shattered on the ground.
Without hesitation, Petra slammed his hand straight down onto the shards of glass.
Aaaah-!” His scream tore through the air.
Blood poured from his hand, a gruesome mess.
Another man charged forward with a fist raised, but Petra met him with a fierce kick to the chest.
The man was on the thinner side. Petra’s kick sent him flying through the air, and he slammed hard into a nearby trash can.
“Ahh-!” he screamed, clutching his side. “That freaking hurt, damn it!”
“Take her down!” the tattooed man, clearly the leader, shouted.
At his command, the remaining men surged forward, all rushing at Petra in an attempt to overpower her with numbers.
2
