The Competition

Chapter 4: Beers and Bike

“What?” I exclaimed, staring incredulously at Sean, who remained steadfast in front of me. “What do you mean they left it empty?” My confusion deepened as I replayed the unsettling moment I’d checked my bank account just minutes earlier.

“Your father believes that since you’re eager for independence after this mission, you need to learn to be… resourceful.” Sean replied, his composure unwavering.

I couldn't deny it—I had squandered my money recklessly over the last three months while attempting to experience a resemblance of normal life, running from the weight of my family’s expectations.

“He also mentioned that you need to learn how to earn and be responsible for your finances,” he added, his tone slightly firm.

“But I earned that money!” My voice rose in frustration as I paced the living room. This was the worst punishment I could have imagined, worse than any of my brothers’ whippings.

“He wants you to earn it the human way, without taking any lives,” Sean clarified. I knew it was true; all our money had come from the dirtiest of deeds—gambling, casino winnings, and worse. I had never held a normal job, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t.

“Your father will continue to support your university expenses, including tuition, books, and any extracurricular activities,” Sean continued. “If you need equipment for your plans concerning the Blackwoods, I can provide that too. However, your personal necessities—like food, clothing, jewelry, and any parties you plan—will have to come out of your pocket, soon.” His voice took on a more commanding tone.

“‘Soon’?” I echoed, eyeing the stack of cash he placed on the table.

“Two thousand five hundred dollars. That’s your allowance for the month for anything you deem necessary. You won’t be using the limousine or the sports car parked outside. You wanted to maintain a low profile, those high-end cars won’t help you blend in,” he explained.

“But we’re in a city, Sean! This isn’t Japan, where public transport is easily accessible. Don’t we have any normal vehicles?” I demanded, feeling the irritation rise within me.

“I’m sorry, but no. Your father ordered that those luxuries be stripped from you, and it’s time you learn to earn them.”

I sank into the leather chair, my body heavy with frustration, chewing on my right thumbnail as I contemplated my new reality, oblivious to Sean still standing in front of me.

“Mis—” I shot him a fierce glare before he could finish with the dreaded “Missus.” “Alynna,” he corrected, his tone softening.

“I know this is a lot to take in, but I’ve known you for too long to believe these changes will derail your mission,” he said, moving closer to me. He settled into the chair across from me and reached for my arm. “You’ve proven yourself to your family time and again,” he added, gazing into my eyes. “I have no doubt you’ll do it again.”

After standing up, Sean turned to leave but paused, catching my eye once more. “I’ll be leaving tomorrow and return late. Your father has set up meetings for me with some people who will assist you when the time comes. You’ll meet them once I’m done. In the meantime, get some rest. Remember, you can message me whenever you need anything.” With that, he stepped out of my room, leaving me to grapple with the weight of my new reality.

***

I set out to explore the city's vibrant nightlife alone, eager to get a feel for what L.A. had to offer. I heard rumores that beneath its glitzy exterior, lay a dark world with lots of dark deeds.

“No killings, no gambling, no illegal activities, and only a few dollars in my pocket. Alright, Alynna... think! We need money.” I muttered to myself as I walked along the sidewalk, my gaze wandering to a group of drunk teenagers stumbling out of a building, their laughter echoing in the night. The colorful lights reflected off the wet pavement as the door swung shut behind them.

“A bar,” I whispered, the idea striking me like a lightning bolt. Without a second thought, I pushed open the heavy wooden door and stepped inside. The cacophony of voices hit me like a wave as I surveyed the scene—a buzzing beer house where patrons lost themselves in music, pool games, and dart throws. My eyes landed on my target: a calm figure at the bar, engrossed in a football game.

I strode confidently toward him, settling next to a muscular guy with a full glass of beer in hand, his attention glued to the screen. Cheers erupted around us as the crowd celebrated a touchdown.

“Hello there, my lady,” he said, his voice dripping with charm as he noticed me.

I flashed him a flirtatious smile, maintaining an air of nonchalance as I turned to order my drink. “I need a full glass of beer over here!” I called out, catching the bartender's attention. As expected, the hunk leaned in, eager to insert himself into my evening.

“Someone’s heartbroken,” he chuckled, laughter spilling from him like the beer from his glass. “Just let me know if you need help, young lady.” He leaned closer, the scent of cigarettes and alcohol wafting toward me.

“I don’t think you can handle how much I’ll be drinking tonight, sir,” I replied, teasingly, watching as his expression shifted from confident to insulted. He slammed his glass down, nearly spilling the remnants.

“Show me,” he challenged, his voice dropping to a near whisper, his friends now eyeing us with interest.

I lifted my glass and took a slow, seductive sip, keeping my eyes locked on his. “I’m sorry, sir, but I don’t provide—free entertainment.”

“Twenty dollars for a full glass,” he countered, placing a bill in front of me with a smirk.

As the bartender slid over my drink, I gulped it down with practiced ease, and I could see the envy and excitement bubbling in his eyes as he and his friends cheered me on.

He tossed down another two twenty-dollar bills, and with each finished glass, the crowd grew more animated. “You’re going down, baby!” he teased, this time dropping five bills in front of me. I noticed he hadn’t pulled these from his wallet; he was collecting them from his group while I was busy downing drinks.

But what he didn’t realize was that I’d been trained for this—this was a game I knew how to win.

And in just few moments of fooling those drunkards, I was able to double the amount I have in pocket.

"Five thousand dollars. Hmm.. shame, I can't even buy a motorbike with this. Heh, at least this will spare me few more days."

Lost in my own thoughts and analyzing the next steps, an icy prickle slides down my spine, a silent warning that I’m being watched. The hairs on my neck rise as I shift slightly, preparing for the unexpected, readying myself for any potential threat. As my eyes catch a sudden flicker of light—a reflection bouncing off the chrome of a motorcycle, tearing out of a dark alley behind me. The rider is leaning low, but his eyes are not on the road; he’s glancing back over his shoulder, as if someone might be chasing him. His gaze snaps forward just as I step into view, his eyes widening with shock as he realizes he’s seconds away from colliding with me, no time left for a clean stop.

The rider’s motorcycle skids, barely scraping past me before crashing onto its side. I stumble backward from the impact, hitting the ground with a sharp gasp. Before I can fully regain my senses, the rider is already up, rushing toward me.

“Are you alright?” he says, his voice low and urgent, glancing anxiously back the way he came. “Listen, there’s no time—get up! You need to move. Now!”

I glare at him, pushing myself up. “Excuse me?”

“Trust me,” he insists, grabbing my arm firmly but not roughly, pulling me to my feet. “They’re coming, and they’ll kill you too if they think you’re involved. Get on the bike with me.”

I yank my arm back, staring him down. His dark helmet covering his identity but I can still notice how his blue eyes exposed just from the tiny reflection of the streetlight infront of us.

His eyes flick toward the shadows down the alley, growing darker as heavy footsteps approach. “If you want to live, trust me.” He nods urgently toward the bike, his voice a mixture of pleading and command. “It’s now or never.”

I take a quick glance behind him, seeing the figures advancing. Swallowing my pride, I grab his outstretched hand, and he pulls me onto the bike.

“Hold on tight,” he mutters, revving the engine back to life. Just before we speed off, he looks over his shoulder, eyes filled with an intensity that pierces through the chaos. “I promise I’ll explain. Just… hang on.”

And with that, we’re off, tearing through the night, leaving his pursuers in a cloud of dust.