Nolan stood framed against the light from the doorway, his black leather jacket already streaked with fresh blood.
He held one of the thugs by the collar, lifted him like a sack of trash, and tossed him hard into the corner.
"Three seconds. Get out, or you don't walk out at all."
The remaining men swore and lunged forward together.
Amaris huddled against the wall, watching as Nolan moved through their blows like a graceful but deadly predator. Every strike was precise and brutal.
In the end, he pressed a shard of broken glass directly against the lead attacker's eye.
By the time security finally arrived, the restroom was a mess of overturned furniture and spilled liquid, with only Amaris still curled up in the corner.
Nolan knelt down. The scent of blood clung to his jacket, yet his
