Fati flicked his cigarette to the ground and rolled up his sleeves, revealing thick, scarred forearms. The kind of arms that had seen too many alley fights, too many bars that ended in blood. His eyes narrowed, full of cold contempt.
Austin spun the baseball bat once in her hand, then tossed it aside like junk she didn't need. It clattered on the pavement, loud in the silence. A message. She didn't need it to deal with him.
Fati's jaw ticked. His nostrils flared.
[ Was she seriously brushing him off ? Looking at him like he was nothing ?
Perfect.
He'd enjoy wiping that look off her face. Slowly. ]
They clashed with the force of a street brawl and the rhythm of a fight scene choreographed for film.
No words. Just movement. Just fury.
Austin snapped her leg up in a
