I narrowed my eyes and asked, "So, what do you want, then?"

Shane smirked, clearly loving every moment of it. "Kneel! Beg me to forgive you, and maybe I’ll let you off the hook."

He shoved Lyla forward, a sick grin spreading across his face. "And I’ll even throw her in for you. Don’t worry, I’ve already paid for her. She’ll satisfy you. Oh, and by the way, I checked the goods. She’s very... supple."

The rich kids around us burst into laughter.

I honestly wanted to ask them, "Is your life so boring that this is funny?"

Is humiliating someone, especially a woman, really something to laugh about?

"I said kneel!" Shane pointed at me like I was some servant. "If you don’t kneel, you’re not leaving here standing!"

A group of people started closing in around us.

It looked like things were about to escalate. This was the last thing I wanted to happen. Because whenever someone tries to make a move on me, the people secretly watching over me would definitely step in.

"Call the police, please. Just don’t cause more trouble," I said, frustration creeping into my voice.

"I’ll call your mom!" Shane yelled, and then, without warning, he threw a punch at me.

I sighed and didn’t even flinch. With a sharp thud, Shane was knocked back into the crowd of rich kids, sending two of them tumbling. He hit the ground hard, bent over, and spat blood.

Andrew’s kick wasn’t just a warning.

It had been a full force. But knowing Andrew, if Shane wasn’t dead, I knew he had held back.

"Go after him!" Shane roared, scrambling to his feet. "Beat him up! As long as you don’t kill him, I’ll take the heat for anything that happens!"

His voice was rageful, but I could tell he wasn’t in control anymore.

Then, out of nowhere, a new group rushed forward. This one wasn’t part of Shane's crew. They’d been hiding in the background, but they stepped in without hesitation when they saw things wouldn’t settle down peacefully.

Before anyone could react, every single one of Shane’s so-called rich kids was on the ground, rolling around and screaming in pain.

Their howls just got louder and louder.

"Let’s go," I said, already heading back to the car.

"Dammit, don’t you dare run!" Shane yelled, pulling out his phone. "You hit me? You’re dead! I’m calling for backup."

The rich kids who had been taken down also pulled out their phones.

Too bad for them, none of them had any signal.

Andrew leaned in, whispering, "Honestly, I wasn’t telling you to stay low-key earlier because of the situation. I was just trying to say that if someone doesn’t know their place, they need a proper lesson. We can’t lose face for the organization."

I felt a surge of excitement.

"Oh?" I said, turning toward Andrew. "Let them make their calls."

Andrew pulled out a jamming-proof phone and tossed it to me. "Use mine. It’s got a signal."

Shane froze briefly, then grabbed the phone and dialed, "I’ve been hit. I’m at Main Street. Send backup, now!"

After finishing the call, he dialed a few more numbers.

Meanwhile, a group of plainclothes officers quietly moved in, dispersing the crowd.

The shops around us shut down. They confiscated the phones of everyone involved. This was all to make sure I wouldn’t get exposed. It wasn’t long before everyone had finished making their calls.

Lyla walked up to me, a smug look plastered across her face. "Luke, you’re done for. Not just you, but your parents and even your relatives—everyone’s finished."

I sneered at her. "Get lost, you slut. Stay the hell away from me. You disgust me."

Lyla raised her hand, clearly ready to slap me.

But before she could, Andrew’s foot connected with her. With a sharp thud, she went flying, crashing to the ground. She spat blood as she hit the pavement.

Maybe she thought my people wouldn’t hit women, but that assumption was quickly corrected.

Forget about women.

Hell, even if a female superhero stood in front of me, ready to throw a punch, Andrew wouldn’t hesitate for a second.

About ten minutes later, a group of people showed up. They looked like society’s rejects. The kind of people you’d call thugs.

The leader was a bald guy holding an iron rod.

Andrew marched right up to Shane and asked, "Shane, is this the guy?"

"Yeah," Shane nodded, his voice low.

The bald guy grinned. "I’ll take care of them right now."

"Hold on a sec!" Shane raised his hand to stop him. "We’ve got more people coming. Let’s wait for everyone, then deal with them all at once. We’ll show them what it means to be crushed."

Half an hour later, hundreds of people gathered around us.

Most of them had been called in by the rich kids. There were thugs, security guards, and even construction workers who looked completely lost, like they had no idea why they were there.

They seemed out of place, just following orders.

Seeing the crowd grow, Shane walked up to me, his jaw clenched. "Luke, you think you can talk back? You should know arrogance needs money and power. In Silverstone, the Matthews family runs everything. We’re at the top. Don’t even talk about making you kneel—we could wipe your entire family off the map if we wanted to."

"So, are your people here?" I asked casually, as if this was just another Tuesday.

Shane raised an eyebrow, clearly taken aback. "Aren’t you scared?"

"Why would I be scared?" I shot back without missing a beat.

Shane looked confused. "I gotta know how you have the nerve to act tough with me?"

"Well..." I thought for a second, then said, "Shane, even if you didn’t finish school, you should know one thing: when something’s off, there’s usually something bigger going on. You thought you could push me around, but I’ve been taking down rich brats like you. I’m not backing down in front of your crowd. Instead of wondering where my confidence comes from, maybe you should start asking yourself if I have some power you can’t afford to mess with."

Shane froze, clearly processing what I had just said.

Lyla, who had been hanging in the background, scoffed, stepping forward. "Shane, don’t listen to this guy. His dad’s just a blue-collar worker, and his mom doesn’t even have a job. What power could his family have? We’ve got an army here. You really think he can scare us?"

Shane’s expression darkened.

"Dammit, I almost let you fool me!" he growled.

Then, without hesitation, he raised his hand. "Charge! Just don’t kill them. Go ahead!"

With that, a group of men started shouting and rushing toward us.

The unmistakable sound of mechanical clicks filled the air as everyone around me drew their guns—and not just any guns.

These were handguns with drum magazines, and the clicking sound of them chambering their rounds was loud and clear.

Suddenly, gunshots erupted. The sharp crack of each shot echoed through the street.

The twenty bodyguards around me each fired three shots.

These were blanks, but the noise was enough to send a chill through the crowd. The sound of shell casings hitting the ground followed.

Everyone froze.

People on both sides of the street began emerging. They were carrying rifles and surrounded Shane and his group.

Shane’s eyes went wide in shock. "Y-you... you actually have guns?"

I couldn’t help but smile smugly as I nodded.

Walking over to him, I looked down and said, "Shane, I’ll give you one more chance. Call for backup. Bring the toughest people you know."

"Fine!" He gritted his teeth. "You better not regret this. I’ll show you what power really looks like."

Shane, now fuming, turned to my people. "Hey, listen up! I’m Shane Matthews. My father is David Matthews. Half of Silverstone’s most valuable properties were built by my family. If you pull a gun on me, I can strip you of your uniforms with a single word!"

It was clear Shane was starting to realize something wasn’t right.

Then, another guy stepped forward, his confidence almost palpable. "I’m Jonathan, my dad’s Emerson Grant. The logistics business in Silverstone City? Yeah, that’s all ours."

"I’m Zachary," another guy said, "My dad’s Thomas Holt. We own the catering business here."

"I’m Hailey," the last one added, "My dad’s Gary Vanderbilt, and my mom’s Victoria Smith. The luxury goods market in Silverstone? That’s our turf."

These rich brats clearly had their connections.

According to them, their families practically owned the town—each one had a piece of the pie, monopolizing different industries.

'But honestly, what did that even mean to me? Would I be intimidated?'

Not a chance.

As long as I didn’t want to, these people weren’t even worth my time.

They wrapped up their calls quickly, and all eyes were locked on us.

I turned to Andrew and said, "Set it up."

He nodded and made a quick call. Not long after, luxury cars started pulling up. Middle-aged people stepped out, who were clearly the parents of these rich kids.

They all wore serious expressions, but I could see the worry in their eyes as they walked toward us. They didn’t dare come too close, standing on opposite sides of the street, leaving a clear path between us.

Then, a car with the plate number GFU 1708 pulled up.

A middle-aged man in a business jacket got out.

When Lyla saw him, her eyes lit up. "Shane, you’re amazing! You even brought in Silverstone’s top boss!"

Shane paused briefly, soaking in the praise, then smiled smugly. "Oh, it’s just a small thing."

He turned to me, grinning. "Luke, still feeling arrogant? Our parents are here, and the big shot from Silverstone’s shows up. This is our power. You get it yet?"

At that moment, the Mayor of Silverstone City walked up to me.

He gave the rich kids a long, hard look, then turned to me. His expression softened, and he gave a slight bow. "Luke Carson, I messed up. I’m sorry for putting you in harm’s way."