Chapter 107 The Face Of Evil

Liam was chewing slowly, silently counting down in his head how many more bites it would take to finish his plate and get the hell out of this dump. But peace was never a luxury he could afford.

One of the men stood up.

He was tall, covered in tattoos, muscles stretched across his arms like he spent more time lifting barrels than bathing. He walked over with a swagger that screamed arrogance, then stopped beside Liam, towering over him with that familiar street-born smirk.

Then he said just one word—cold and challenging.

"Scram."

Liam slowly raised his eyes from his plate. His jaw twitched. His fingers curled slightly. But instead of reacting, he closed his eyes for about five full seconds.

One... two... three...

Don’t cause problems, he told himself.

Four... five...

He let out a slow breath and didn’t reply.

Lilith’s eyes narrowed. Her lip curled slightly.

She was disappointed. Deeply.

She leaned back in her chair and sighed, crossing one leg over the other as she watched the scene unfold. Liam didn’t know it, but she had brought him out here just to see this. She’d seen the footage—taking out drug dealers on his first mission, moving like a ghost, like death dressed in black. She’d watched it again and again on her phone, eyes gleaming with curiosity.

She wanted to see that Liam. Up close.

And right now, he was holding back.

The man who told Liam to scram looked around, confused at first. He expected a punch, a fight, something dramatic.

But Liam had done nothing.

So the man grinned wide and turned to the others around him. "Look at this fuckin’ onion," he said, loud enough for the whole restaurant to hear. "He thinks we won’t kill him."

Laughter erupted around them. Men with scarred faces, gold teeth, and cheap alcohol on their breaths clapped and howled, slapping tables and whistling. The more they laughed, the more pissed off Liam got. His grip on the edge of the broken table tightened, his knuckles whitening.

He was short-tempered on a good day.

And today? Today was far from a good day.

Then it happened.

The man beside him suddenly kicked the leg of Liam’s chair—hard.

CRACK!

The wooden leg snapped instantly. Liam didn’t even have time to balance himself before the whole thing collapsed under him. His back hit the floor hard with a loud thud, the breath knocked out of him. Jagged splinters from the broken chair pierced his right hand as he hit the ground, drawing blood. He groaned silently, eyes wide open, staring at the cracked ceiling above him.

Pain rushed up his arm. Sharp. Hot.

His other hand was clenched tightly into a fist, trembling.

That was it.

Fuck being noble.

Fuck holding back.

He wasn’t going to walk out of here quietly. He was going to make sure everyone here remembered him—and feared him.

Ella was already by his side, dropping to her knees.

"Liam!" she whispered urgently, reaching out and grabbing his wounded hand, checking the damage. She was gentle, her movements quick but careful. Her hair spilled forward, covering part of her face, but her eyes were worried, scanning him.

But Liam didn’t even acknowledge her.

His mind wasn’t there anymore.

He wasn’t thinking about Ella. He wasn’t thinking about his hand. He was already deciding: Do I just break a few bones... or do I kill every last one of them in here?

And then—

Something happened.

Something that stunned the entire room into silence.

Lilith stood up.

Her chair scraped slowly across the floor, the sound slicing through the rowdy noise like a blade. She moved with slow precision, rising to her full height. Her black suit, flawlessly tailored, shifted with her movement, her long blonde hair catching the light as she tilted her head.

She walked toward the man who had kicked Liam’s chair.

Everyone watched her, expecting a joke, a slap, maybe some kind of flirt.

But her eyes... her eyes burned with fury.

The man was tall—taller than her by a full head. Muscular. Intimidating.

But she walked right up to him, standing toe to toe, close enough to smell his bad cologne. She tilted her head up to meet his gaze. Her green eyes were blazing.

Her fist, clenched by her side, trembled from how tightly she held it.

The man chuckled.

"Well, what do we have here?" he said, mocking her with a dirty grin. "You want to get a little spanking, baby girl?"

That was the wrong sentence to say.

Lilith’s mouth curved into a slow, deadly grin. No words. No warning.

She moved.

With lightning speed, she kicked his leg—the same way he had done to Liam’s chair. The force behind her kick was shocking, a perfect strike to the side of his knee. His leg buckled, and he bent forward instinctively to catch his balance.

That was when she brought her knee up—hard—into his jaw.

CRACK!

His head snapped back like a ragdoll. The man let out a gargled noise before collapsing backward, completely knocked out cold, blood already trickling from his lip.

The restaurant froze.

You could hear a pin drop.

Nobody moved.

Nobody spoke.

They all just stared at Lilith—at the woman who had just, with perfect form and no hesitation, dropped one of the biggest guys in the building with two hits.

Lilith stood over him, brushing back a strand of her hair calmly. Then she glanced back at Liam on the floor, who was still staring up at her in shock.

She winked.

For a moment, everything was dead silent.

Then—

"GET HER!!" someone suddenly screamed from the far corner of the restaurant.

It was one of the thugs, his voice trembling with rage and disbelief. "Boss!! She knocked out Kade!"

The next voice that rang out was heavier, deeper—booming with fury.

"Someone bring me this fucking bitch!" the gang leader roared, slamming his hand on a nearby table. "I want her alive!"

At his command, it was like the room exploded.

Every thug in the restaurant—at least twelve of them—stood up at once. The screech of chairs, the clatter of boots, the wild yells. Hidden blades were unsheathed. Chains swung. Hockey sticks, pipes, and baseball bats came out of nowhere.

Liam’s eyes widened.

Holy shit.

They were seriously about to go to war in a restaurant.

He glanced at Lilith.

Her back was turned to him, long golden-blonde hair swaying slightly. She hadn’t even moved. Her posture didn’t tense. She didn’t reach for a weapon.

She just stood there, calm... collected...

And terrifying.

The first guy lunged at her, hockey stick raised high. Liam was ready to jump in—but Lilith moved.

A flash of black heels.

She ducked the swing with a dancer’s grace, spinning with elegance. Her leg flew up like lightning, and the sharp heel of her shoe jabbed right into the attacker’s throat with a sickening CRACK.

He gasped—choking. Blood sprayed from his mouth as he clutched his neck and dropped to his knees, flailing. Within seconds, he was on the ground, twisting and convulsing like a chicken with its head cut off.

Liam flinched. His hand unconsciously went to his own throat.

Goddamn.

Lilith was crazy.

But that wasn’t even the start.

The rest of the thugs rushed in at once, weapons raised, roaring as they came at her in a chaotic wave.

But none of them could touch her.

She wove through their attacks with supernatural precision—ducking, spinning, sliding between their swings like smoke in the air. She wasn’t just fast. She was flawless.

One man raised a pipe above his head.

Lilith ducked low and rose with a brutal elbow straight into his chin—crack!—he went limp before hitting the floor.

Another tried to grab her from behind.

She turned mid-spin, her heel slicing across his cheek, ripping through skin and muscle like a knife. He dropped, screaming, blood gushing.

It was a massacre.

Ella turned away, covering her mouth as her stomach turned. The sound of crunching bones and dying groans was overwhelming.

But Liam?

He was loving it.

His blood boiled with excitement. Every blow Lilith landed felt like his revenge. These thugs who mocked him, kicked his chair, humiliated him—were now rolling on the ground in blood and agony.

It was beautiful.

A massive guy, at least 6’5", tried to bearhug Lilith from behind, thinking brute strength would stop her.

She didn’t even blink.

Her knee shot up between his legs with punishing force. His scream was high-pitched and desperate as he collapsed, clutching his groin.

Before he even hit the floor, Lilith leapt off his falling body, using him like a springboard. She flipped over the last guy trying to ambush her and brought her heel crashing down on his shoulder mid-air.

CRACK!

The man’s arm dangled uselessly as he dropped face-first to the floor, unconscious.

Within seconds...

It was over.

Only one man remained.

The gang leader.

He looked around the room, his face pale. His men—every single one—were either bleeding, groaning in pain, or straight up dead.

He backed up slowly.

"E-evil..." he stammered, his voice trembling as he looked at Lilith like she was some demon in human skin. "She’s evil!!"

Then he turned and ran—bolting out the door like his life depended on it, screaming like a madman.

Liam, still sitting on the floor with his bleeding hand, blinked.

Then he nodded slowly. "Finally," he muttered. "Someone who sees what I see."

Ella was still kneeling beside him, stunned by the massacre. Lilith dusted off her hands and calmly walked back toward them, heels tapping softly against the bloodstained floor.

She didn’t even look winded.

She walked over to the counter, reached into her coat, and dropped a thick wad of cash without saying a word. The owner—who had been hiding under the bar—nodded rapidly.

"For the food. And the damage," Lilith said plainly.

Liam tilted his head.

That was... surprisingly nice of her.

Not that he’d do the same. If he were her, he’d be halfway out the city by now.

Still, he nodded in approval. "Respect."