The gang members present in the building crowded the doorway, like a pack of wolves unsure whether to pounce.
From their point of view, an unidentified man had entered their main base and was beating everybody up without the use of a single weapon.
With their faces pale, and hands twitching on hilts and knives, every one of them was hesitant.
Even before they stepped in the study, they knew the balance had shifted in the attacker's favor.
For him to get that far was already a point in his favor.
The furniture, the blood, and the bodies on the floor. All of it paled beside the fact that the masked young man in the chair had just walked through them and sat as if he owned the place.
Footsteps announced the leader before he fully filled the doorway.
He moved with the sort of confidence that came from being feared often enough that fear no longer mattered.
He was broad shouldered, with a scar cutting from temple to jaw.
He took in the scene with lazy interest.
