Chapter 33: The Alley

Leon stood in front of the mirror, adjusting the cuffs of his dark navy suit. The crisp fabric clung perfectly to his tall, athletic frame, tailored to enhance his naturally broad shoulders and trim waist. His bronzed skin glowed under the soft bathroom light, his sharp jawline accentuated by the shadow of neatly trimmed stubble.

His dark, wavy hair was styled effortlessly, giving him a look of controlled elegance. His deep-set, amber-brown eyes held a fire of intelligence and determination—a gaze that had charmed investors and left competitors scrambling to keep up. There was an undeniable Hispanic flair to his appearance, a mix of aristocratic poise and street-smart charm, making him both captivating and intimidating at the same time.

As he was straightening his tie, the door creaked open, and his mother stepped inside.

She was a small woman, her face lined with gentle worry, but her deep brown eyes carried warmth and pride. Ever since his father had passed when he was sixteen, she had been his rock—his guiding light through grief and hardship. It was her unwavering support that had lifted him to the heights he had reached.

She smiled, eyes glistening. "You look so handsome, My son," she said softly, stepping closer to adjust his collar before pressing a kiss on his forehead.

Leon chuckled, pulling her into a deep hug. "That's because I have your good genes."

She swatted his arm playfully, but her hands lingered on his shoulders. There was tension in her grip, her smile not quite reaching her eyes.

"Be careful tonight, Leon," she whispered.

He pulled back slightly, tilting his head. "Mama, it's a celebration, not a battlefield. What's with the nerves?"

She hesitated before shaking her head. "I don't know… I just have a bad feeling."

Leon sighed, squeezing her hands reassuringly. "You always worry too much. I'll be fine. I'm just going to have a few drinks, shake some hands, and come back home. I promise."

She studied his face for a moment before nodding. "Okay… Just take care of yourself."

He gave her one last hug before grabbing his keys and stepping out of their apartment.

---

The moment he exited the building, familiar faces greeted him. The security guard at the front desk gave him a respectful nod, while a cleaning lady, whom he always greeted, smiled warmly.

"Looking sharp, Mr. Cross!" one of the younger workers called.

Leon chuckled, giving him a mock salute. "Got to keep the image, right?"

Unlike other wealthy businessmen, Leon never looked down on the people working around him. He remembered what it was like growing up without wealth, struggling for opportunities. That past kept him grounded, no matter how much success he achieved.

The party venue was only a couple of blocks away, a luxurious high-rise with a rooftop lounge overlooking the city. His friends, Mark and Evan, had offered to send a limo, but he refused.

"It's just a short walk," he had told them.

At first, they insisted—worried it would affect their image if one of their company heads arrived on foot. But when he held firm, they gave up easily. Almost too easily. And behind their reluctant agreement, they smiled.

An opportunity had just fallen into their laps.

---

The night air was cool as Leon walked down the street, the city lights casting a golden glow on the pavement. He turned into an alley—a shortcut he had taken many times before.

That was when he felt it.

A sudden, sharp pain exploded in his back. His breath hitched, his body locking up in shock.

Slowly, he turned, his vision blurring as he looked down to see blood spreading across his shirt.

A boy—no older than seventeen—stood before him, trembling, tears streaking his face. The knife in his hand was still coated in Leon's blood.

"I'm sorry… I'm so sorry…" the boy whimpered, his voice barely audible before he turned and ran.

Leon staggered, his legs giving out beneath him. He collapsed to the ground, his body refusing to obey his desperate commands.

His fingers clawed at the cold pavement, his breath ragged as he fought to stay conscious. His vision swam, but he forced his head up, searching—pleading—for someone.

Then, at the entrance of the alley, a luxury car slowed to a stop.

Relief flooded through Leon's veins as he recognized the familiar vehicle.

Mark and Evan. They were here. They could save him.

He reached out, fingers trembling. "H-Help…"

But then he saw their faces.

They weren't panicked. They weren't worried.

They were smiling.

Dark, twisted smiles that sent ice through his veins.

At that moment, clarity struck him like lightning. This wasn't a random attack. This wasn't bad luck.

It was them.

His so-called friends.

Bile rose in his throat as realization crashed over him. They had planned this. They had sent him on this path, given him the opportunity to walk alone—because they knew.

His body shook, his heart screaming in rage even as his strength faded.

They didn't even wait. The car's tires screeched as they sped off, leaving him there—discarded like trash.

You bastards…

If looks could kill, lightning would have struck that car down, burning them to ash.

But he was powerless.

His vision darkened.

His breath shallowed.

And then—nothing.

---

Leon gasped, his body jerking upright as he clutched his chest, heart hammering against his ribs.

Sweat drenched his skin, his breaths ragged. He wasn't in that alley. He wasn't dying.

He was in his bed. In the settlement.

He ran a shaking hand through his hair, exhaling sharply. The dream had felt so real—too real.