CHAPTER 27: CHAPTER 27: DID YOU HEAR IT? HE ASKED TO BE BROKEN.

"Damn it!" Charles Reed’s roar shook the broken glass littering the floor, his voice thick with fury as he turned on the group of lackeys huddled like frightened children behind him.

"Why aren’t you stopping them? Why are you just standing there like a bunch of useless bunch?"

Across his shop, Nathan’s men were wreaking havoc toppling shelves.

Charles’s black-market shop, painstakingly built over years, was being reduced to rubble before his very eyes. And yet his own gang... stood rooted in place, staring like dazed cattle.

"Boss, we can’t fight them," One-Eye Jack blurted, his single eye darting back and forth.

"There are too many men. Even if we tried, we will be trampled before we could land a punch on them."

"They’re threatening to break our legs!" another stammered, his voice thin and cracking. "Better to run while we can. If we’re alive, we can rebuild the shop Boss. Dead men don’t get second chances."

"Boss, let’s just get out of here!" a third urged, already inching sideways toward the doorway like a rat seeking the nearest sewer.

Charles’s men have pale, sweaty faces, their eyes fixed on the chaos Nathan’s gang are unleashing on them.

These were not just brawlers from the street but every movement spoke of training, discipline, and raw strength.

Taking even a single step forward meant risking a broken jaw or worse.

And for what? The pitiful pay Charles tossed their way each month wouldn’t even buy a week’s worth of rice.

"You... you worthless cowards!" Charles snarled.

His eyelids twitched in barely contained rage, but deep down he could see it not a single one of them intended to fight the men outside.

"Don’t forget who’s backing me!" he barked suddenly, his voice booming,"In Ironhold’s black market, No one can touch me!"

The words landed like a thrown stone in still water, halting the slow retreat of his men. Feet that had been shuffling toward the exit stopped cold.

In this part of the city, survival wasn’t about strength alone it was about who stood behind you.

Nathan, for all his bravado, was just the son of a merchant with no real political weight.

But Charles? Charles had blood ties to Simon, a man whose government post protected his brother from the crowd.

"Boss, we’re not running," One-Eye Jack said quickly, trying to erase his earlier cowardice. "We just thought it should be smart to call for a backup."

"Yeah, your brother is in the government," another said, seizing the chance to regain face. "Nathan wouldn’t dare go too far, not with Simon standing behind you."

"That’s right."

"Simon is too powerful for Nathan to cross."

Charles had survived plenty of fights leaning on that very protection.

Simon might have brushed off past grudges like the time Charles had made the mistake of pursuing Lucy, only to be be beaten bloody by Nathan in public.

Simon had only laughed, calling his younger brother a fool for losing to a kid. But this was different. Wrecking Charles’s shop was not just a blow to Charles pride but it was also like a slap on the Simon’s face.

Simon’s political power had allowed Charles to grab Ironhold’s water trade into a monopoly, and that was not something the official would let slide.

"You’re smarter than you look," Charles sneered finally, his lip curling as he scanned his suddenly braver men.

Then Charles turned to Nathan, his voice dripping with mockery. "You dare wreck my shop? This is not just an insult to me but it is a slap in my brother Simon’s face. Think carefully, boy. You know exactly what happens when you cross him."

Nathan’s jaw tightened, his earlier confidence flickering. Simon wasn’t just any government man; his influence reached into every corner of Ironhold.

Picking a fight with him would not just bring trouble to Nathan alone it could drag his father, Lucy, and anyone close to him into the fights.

Sensing that hesitation, Charles’s grin spread wide, his arrogance swelling until it practically oozed from his pores. "What’s wrong? Did I hit a nerve? You think you are cool smashing my place like that but the moment this reaches Simon, you’re finished.

And what’s this I hear about breaking my legs? Go ahead!"

"Hit me! Break my legs if you dare right here!"

"What kind of ridiculous request is that?" Alex’s amused voice sounded from behind Nathan.

He stood nearby, face hidden behind a black cloth mask.

In the black market, being anonymous was not just about choice it was survival. This was no modern city with police and courts. Here, laws were thin as paper, and names could get you killed.

"Brother Alex, what should we do?" Nathan asked quietly, anger simmering in his voice but kept on a leash. His fists itched to answer Charles’s taunts.

Nathan was no coward he can risk himself. But if his actions risked Lucy or Mr. Hartwell, that was a line he couldn’t cross. And Miss Evelyn’s masked servants, though ready to fight, bore no family crest or open allegiance; her household avoided the black market spotlight, leaving them unable to use her name for protection.

Alex studied him for a moment, inwardly impressed. Even in the face of humiliation, Nathan was weighing the cost, seeking advice before doing something that might be rash. That kind of restraint was rare.

"Don’t overthink it," Alex said finally.

"We’ve already smashed his shop. Stopping now would be half a job. If we’re going to offend him, we might as well do it properly. Besides..." his eyes narrowed in amusement, "he’s practically begging us to break his legs. I’ve never seen someone so eager to be beaten."

Nathan’s expression shifted, a grin tugging at his lips. "I understand."

Without another word, they moved in unison. Their fists and boots landed with unrelenting precision, each strike pounding Charles further into the floor. A solid punch snapped his head sideways, another drove the air from his lungs, and a vicious kick to his leg brought a sickening crack.

Charles collapsed with a cry, clutching his ruined limb, his face already swelling with dark bruises.

"You... you dare to attack me?" he bellowed through the pain. "You’re finished! I’ll tell Simon after that you all will rot in prison!"

Alex clapped his hands once, turning to the crowd that had gathered in the doorway and along the street, every eye fixed on the spectacle.

"Everyone heard him, right? This fine gentleman asked us to break his leg, and we were good enough to grant his wish."

The crowd roared with laughter.

Many had endured Charles’s overpriced, bitter water for years, forced to pay his inflated rates just to survive the drought. Now, watching him broken on the floor, they nodded savoring a long-overdue justice.