The rest of them froze. Cigarettes slipped from fingers and hit the concrete with tiny sparks. Mouths hung half-open, some trembling. Fear rippled through the group like a cold wind blowing through a thin coat — sharp, sudden, undeniable. A few men instinctively stepped back without meaning to, like their bodies tried to protect them before their brains caught up.
Then someone finally found his voice — and lost it again in the same breath.
"FUCK! It's Arthur Kane!"
He half-screamed it, half-choked on it, the words breaking like glass in his throat.
The name hit the crowd like a bomb dropped right in their middle. Everything changed in an instant. Whatever swagger they had twisted into something uglier — panic hiding behind clenched teeth.
