Chapter 4 - The Fight in the Alley
The air in the alley turned ice-cold.
Alexander’s mind raced. The name Marcus echoed in his skull like a gunshot, triggering a microscopic flash of memory—a polished mahogany boardroom, a man with cold gray eyes and a shark-skin tie smiling across a contract. Marcus Sterling. His own chief operating officer.
“You’re standing in the way of the merger, Alex,” a voice whispered in his memory. “And you’re about to become an accident.”
“Marcus sent you,” Alexander said, his voice dropping into a dangerous, chilling register that commanded authority even from a man covered in mud.
“He sends his regards,” the taller thug snarled, raising the iron pipe. “Now stay down, Mr. CEO.”
The thug lunged forward, swinging the pipe in a violent arc aimed straight at Alexander’s head.
Years of high-rise boardrooms and corporate handshakes hadn't completely erased the instincts of a man who had grown up rough before building an empire. Alexander ducked beneath the arc of the pipe with surprising speed, stepping inside the thug’s guard and delivering a brutal, direct punch straight to the man’s solar plexus.
The thug wheezed, doubling over as air exploded from his lungs, and crashed backward into a stack of empty plastic crates.
“Get him!” the second man roared, charging forward with his pipe raised.
Before Alexander could pivot, a blur of yellow fabric flashed past his legs.
“Hey!” Emma screamed at the top of her lungs.
She had grabbed her heavy metal shopping cart and rammed it with all her might directly into the second thug’s shins. The man yelped in surprise, losing his balance on the icy pavement and tripping backward over a frozen puddle.
Alexander didn't hesitate. He lunged forward, grabbed the man by the collar of his heavy coat, and slammed him against the brick wall with a sickening thud, wrenching the iron pipe from his grip and tossing it skidding across the concrete.
“Run!” Alexander yelled down at Emma.
Without wasting a second, Emma grabbed her backpack from beneath the pallet while Alexander scooped up the remaining blankets, his leather wallet, and his business card holder.
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“This way!” Emma shouted, darting through a narrow gap between the old textile factory and a brick drainage pipe—a shortcut too small for adults, but wide enough for a seven-year-old and a desperate man.
They scrambled through the gap just as the first thug staggered back to his feet, cursing furiously and swinging his pipe wildly against the empty air.
