CHAPTER 33: NO REST (2)

Theo watched the gang of thugs stalking toward him, each step deliberate, like wolves circling wounded prey. He darted a quick glance back at Ivansia’s family huddled at the foot of the stairs.

"Hide. I’ll handle this," he whispered sharply, his voice low but edged with steel.

The biggest of the thugs stepped forward, a wicked machete gleaming under the dim lights.

He barked out a demand, his voice booming. "Hand over the money! Do that, and we’ll protect your house from the angry mob outside!"

Theo let out a short, scornful laugh. "Protect this place? You ten scrawny idiots think you can hold back hundreds of furious people out there? Look at yourselves—barely enough muscle to lift those weapons you’re waving."

The thug’s face twisted, veins bulging at his temples as rage colored his expression red. "Kill this bastard!" he roared.

Theo dropped into his fighting stance, feet planted shoulder-width apart, fists raised. He could feel his own pulse pounding like war drums as the ten thugs charged him all at once.

----

Meanwhile, Luna and Sherra had slipped away from the chaos, circling behind the thugs in the confusion.

They raced up the stairs and burst into Ivansia’s bedroom, finding her parents restraining her as she screamed and struggled to break free.

Ivansia froze the moment she saw Luna and Sherra standing in her room. "What are you doing here, Luna?" Ivansia asked, her voice hoarse, her face still pale with terror.

"I’m here to help you. The crowd outside has already started dousing your house with gasoline—they’re planning to set it on fire," Luna said grimly, striding straight to Ivansia’s balcony door.

Ivansia’s parents blanched, their faces turning ashen. "What? We have to get out of here now!" Ivansia’s father shouted, springing up and yanking the bedroom door open, beckoning for his wife and daughter to follow him.

"There’s no need," Luna interrupted firmly. She threw open the balcony doors and stepped out into the night air.

All eyes in the furious crowd below reflexively turned upward, locking onto the girl with the golden hair who now stood tall on the second-floor balcony. Murmurs rippled through them like a wave.

"Is that... Luna Destiara?"

"The daughter of that famous tech CEO?"

"What’s she doing here?"

A small, confident smile played on Luna’s lips as recognition dawned in the mob’s eyes. "Yes, you know who I am!" she shouted down, her voice strong and clear despite the tense silence. "So calm down—there’s no need for this pointless violence!"

A man near the front of the mob cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled up at her. "Are you going to help us?!"

"Yes! I will help you!" Luna called back, voice unwavering. "Now tell me, what exactly do you want? What brought you here?"

Dozens of voices roared in unison from below. "Give us back our money!"

The sheer desperation and rage in their unified cry made the balcony floor tremble beneath Luna’s feet.

Ivansia’s parents stepped onto the balcony behind her, horror etched into their faces. Ivansia grabbed Luna’s arm, pulling her close.

"What are you doing, Luna?" Ivansia whispered urgently, her voice shaking. "You’ll make it worse!"

"Relax," Luna whispered back, eyes never leaving the restless crowd. "All they want is their money. The only way to resolve this is with money."

Then, she raised her voice again to address the mob. "You want your money? Fine! If that’s what it takes, then I will get it for you. I promise, Destiara Group will not break its word! Wait just two hours—my team will bring enough cash to repay every last cent owed to you by this family!"

A stunned silence fell over the mob. Then, hope flickered across their angry faces, replacing fury with cautious relief.

"Thank you, Miss Luna!"

"Thank you!"

Voices of gratitude rose from the crowd, the shouts of rage transforming into chants of thanks. Meanwhile, Ivansia looked at Luna with wide, bewildered eyes, struggling to comprehend.

"Luna... how can you possibly pay back all that money?" Ivansia asked, her voice barely a whisper, her eyes glistening with tears of fear and confusion.

Luna turned, taking Ivansia’s hands in her own. "Don’t worry. C, the boy who mocked you at school, he promised he’d return within two hours with the money we need."

Ivansia’s eyes went wide with surprise, a fragile spark of hope lighting within them. She threw her arms around Luna, pulling her into a tight embrace. "Thank you, Luna... thank you so much..."

Sherra, meanwhile, kept a sharp eye on the crowd below, scanning for any signs of trouble.

But just as Ivansia pulled away from Luna, her eyes widened in horror. She’d just remembered—Theo was still downstairs, facing the thugs alone.

----

The roar of the mob outside still thundered like a storm, but inside the opulent halls of Ivansia’s home, a deadlier tension had settled in.

Theo stood in the living room, the walls around him feeling like they were closing in.

His face was battered, dark bruises and cuts marring his features, his black eyes glittering with a savage, unyielding determination.

He’d already fought twenty brutal battles today, and every muscle in his body screamed in agony.

He had ordered Ivansia’s family to retreat upstairs, to get as far away from this fight as possible.

Now, in the flickering shadows of the grand chandelier above, ten dark silhouettes advanced on him, each brandishing a weapon, gleaming knives, heavy baseball bats, and long, wicked machetes.

They were hired thugs, thugs with dead eyes and taut muscles, and their presence was a testament to the chaos the corrupt police had unleashed in the confusion.

Theo drew a deep breath, his lungs burning, his vision blurring for a heartbeat. He closed his eyes, letting the pain fuel the last reserves of his strength.

When he opened them again, his expression had changed entirely, the hesitation was gone now, replaced by an unbreakable resolve.

He spread his feet wide, lowering into a fighter’s stance, his hands curling into tight fists.

He was ’The Unbroken.’ He would not fall here.

The biggest thug stepped forward, his lip curling into a sneer. "Hand over the money or we’ll take it out of your hide," he snarled, hefting his baseball bat high above his head.

With a guttural roar, the thug swung the bat in a savage arc toward Theo’s skull.

But Theo, even in his exhaustion, moved. He sidestepped just enough that the bat whooshed past his ear, the force of the swing sending a gust of air across his face.

In that same instant, Theo’s hand shot out, grabbing the thug’s wrist.

With a twist of brutal strength, he wrenched the man’s arm sideways and hurled him into two of his comrades behind him.

Immediately, five more thugs surged forward, attacking in coordinated unison.

One stabbed with a long kitchen knife aimed for Theo’s gut, another swung a machete low toward his legs, while a third aimed a crushing blow to his head with a bat.

They moved like a pack, these were no ordinary street punks.

Theo’s arms moved almost on instinct, blocking the knife with his forearm. A searing pain erupted as the blade sliced into his flesh, but he barely felt it.

A split second later, the baseball bat crashed into his left shoulder with a sickening thud. The jolt nearly sent him sprawling.

Any of these attacks should have crippled an ordinary man.

But Theo was no ordinary man. His body, hardened through years of training and countless battles, absorbed the pain like a sponge, each wound igniting a white-hot fury inside him.

"Argh!" Theo roared, a sound that was less a cry of pain and more a raw, primal bellow of defiance.

The sound reverberated through the grand hall, like the war cry of a wounded beast refusing to die.

But ten enemies were simply too many. They swarmed him without pause, blows landing relentlessly, steel flashing dangerously close with every second.

Blood began to stain Theo’s torn shirt, every breath coming in ragged gasps as he struggled to keep his feet.

He stumbled back, his boots skidding across the polished marble floor as he slammed into the wall. His reflection wavered in the glossy surface, a battered, exhausted warrior with nothing left to give.

If only I wasn’t so worn out... I could end this in seconds. But now... every movement is so damn heavy... Theo thought bitterly, eyes flicking desperately for an opening.

The largest of the thugs stepped forward, eyes cold with murderous intent.

Raising his machete high above his head, he swung it down in a powerful arc, the blade gleaming with lethal promise.

Theo’s limbs screamed in protest as he tried to dodge, but he knew he wasn’t fast enough.

Is this... the end of the road for me?