As they approached, a man stepped out from the center of the mob, flashing a sinister, mocking grin. "You can either get the hell out of Bloomfield right now, or you can die here today. And once you're dead, things are gonna get a whole lot worse for your girlfriend. Take your pick."
Another man chimed in with a menacing sneer. "Throwing your life away over a little real estate dispute? Getting a beautiful woman dragged into it? Is it really worth it, buddy? Better think it through."
"Out of your mind," sneered a guy with a tattooed arm, sparking a chorus of crude laughter from the rest of the gang.
Dressed in all black, Xavier's chiseled features looked incredibly harsh under the blazing sun. His presence was as suffocating as a frozen wasteland.
"I'm handling the Donovan family's problem. End of discussion."
"You're begging for a death wish, asshole!" The tattooed man spat, swinging his metal pipe with brutal force aimed straight at Xavier's head.
Xavier moved with terrifying speed. Before the pipe could reach its apex, he lunged, driving his boot squarely into the man's face. The thug was sent flying, spitting blood and shattered teeth onto the asphalt.
The rest of the gang froze. The air went dead silent, broken only by a sudden, biting gust of wind howling through the mountain pass.
A few seconds later, the mob snapped out of it and surged forward. Over a dozen men rushed at Xavier, weapons raised, bellowing with primal fury.
Norah unconsciously held her breath, but she didn't take a single step back.
Xavier planted a kick into the chest of the closest attacker, snatched the man's machete from the air, and drove it mercilessly into the thigh of a thug flanking him on the left.
A spray of blood painted the air. The man collapsed, howling in agony.
The rest of the gang vaulted over their fallen comrades, refusing to back down.
Xavier's eyes were terrifyingly apathetic. His movements were clinical, vicious, and entirely instinctual—muscle memory forged in the fires of literal combat.
The predatory aura radiating from him was far more lethal than anything these street-level thugs could muster. Every strike was aimed at a critical weak point. There was no wasted motion.
Norah matched his footwork, dodging out of the way just in time. She snatched a discarded pipe from the ground and, without a second thought, cracked it over the head of a thug trying to blindside Xavier.
As three or four more of their men went down, the attackers finally began to show signs of hesitation. Realizing Xavier was impenetrable, they shifted their focus to Norah.

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