Chapter 2 - The Monster Awakes
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The heavy man pulled a snub-nosed revolver from his jacket, but before he could raise the barrel, Matteo kicked the kneeling leader directly into his path. The two thugs crashed into each other, stumbling back against the table and sending coffee mugs shattering onto the linoleum floor.
Matteo closed the distance in a fraction of a second.
He grabbed the heavy man’s gun hand, twisting it upward until the barrel pointed at the ceiling. A shot went off, blowing a hole through the cheap acoustic tiles above, showering them in white dust. The sound was deafening, causing old Mrs. Patterson to scream and cover her ears in booth three.
Matteo didn't blink. He slammed the heel of his palm directly into the heavy man’s nose. The cartilage shattered instantly. Blood exploded across the man’s face, blinding him as he dropped the revolver.
The youngest thug, the one who had ordered eggs and craved attention, was suddenly entirely devoid of bravado. He scrambled out of the booth, pulling a switchblade from his pocket. His hands were shaking so violently he almost dropped it.
“Stay back!” the kid screamed, waving the blade frantically. “I’ll cut you, man! I swear to God!”
Matteo stepped over the groaning bodies of the first two men. He looked at the trembling kid with absolute, chilling indifference.
“You're holding it wrong,” Matteo said softly.
Before the kid could process the words, Matteo stepped inside his guard. He parried the blade with his forearm, trapped the kid’s wrist, and delivered a devastating knee to the young man’s ribs. Three ribs cracked under the impact. The kid collapsed to the floor, vomiting his dinner beside the counter.
It had taken exactly fourteen seconds.
Fourteen seconds for three violent men to be completely dismantled.
Matteo stood in the center of the diner. He wasn't breathing heavily. His charcoal jacket wasn't even wrinkled. He casually reached down, picked up the snub-nosed revolver from the floor, and popped the cylinder open, emptying the bullets into his palm.
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He let the brass casings hit the floor one by one. Clink. Clink. Clink.
He turned his back on the bleeding men and walked over to Lena. She was still clutching her torn shirt, her eyes wide. She had spent three years trying to forget this version of her husband. But right now, standing in the neon-lit diner, she had never felt safer in her entire life.
