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Novel Catalog
Chapter 43: He Knows
Manuel’s gaze scanned the crowd, his sharp eyes cutting through the haze of neon lights and murmurs of excitement. Amidst the chaos, he spotted Ainsley and Lainey’s booth, where a group of unruly men surrounded them. His instincts immediately went on alert.
Ainsley, calm but clearly uncomfortable, was facing off with them—her posture unyielding, her expression icy. Manuel’s jaw tightened as he observed the situation. He wasn’t surprised to see that the men were local troublemakers—familiar faces who had caused problems in this area for years. The club was new, but these hooligans were as old as the city’s grime.
Around them, patrons at nearby booths stared, but no one intervened. The intimidation from the men was palpable. No one wanted to risk angering such dangerous locals.
The leader of the group, a burly man with a scar running down his cheek, flashed a sly smile as he eyed Ainsley and Lainey. His voice was thick with condescension. “Ladies, it’d be better if you took our invitation. I’m Scar. Ask anyone around here—everyone knows who I am. Come with me, and you’ll have a good time.”
Scar’s hand reached out, moving toward Ainsley’s face in a manner that made it clear he wasn’t asking, he was taking.
But Ainsley’s reaction was instantaneous. With a flash of movement, she grabbed Scar’s wrist in a vice-like grip.
Scar froze, his body stiffening in pain as he looked down at her with wide eyes. He was nearly six feet tall and built like a tank, but Ainsley’s hold was unrelenting.
“***…!” Scar’s voice turned into a howl, but before he could finish his curse, Ainsley yanked his arm with surprising strength, forcing him to stumble backward. “Get lost,” she spat, her voice as cold as ice.
The crowd around them began to murmur, some out of shock, others in disbelief. Scar was the last person anyone expected to be humiliated. And yet, here he was—bent over in pain and utterly disrespected.
Lainey, barely containing her grin, casually reached for a tissue and handed it to Ainsley. “Here,” she said, her voice light, “you should clean up after touching that.”
Ainsley took the tissue without a word, slowly wiping her hands as Scar’s frustration grew. Each movement was deliberate, a calm contrast to the chaos in the air.
Scar’s face contorted in rage. He turned to his followers, snapping orders. “What are you all standing there for? You worthless idiots! Go grab these two girls! I want them both tonight!”
Ainsley’s eyes flashed with something that bordered on amusement. She wasn’t frightened—far from it. In fact, she was actually a little pleased. This was exactly the kind of outlet she needed. These men were nothing but punching bags for her frustration.
Scar lunged at her with a clenched fist. Ainsley didn’t flinch. She dodged easily, her movements fluid, and with a quick, decisive motion, her knee slammed into his stomach.
Scar crumpled to the ground, gasping for air, but the other men weren’t about to back down. They charged forward, their fists raised.
The club, filled with music and chatter, now buzzed with excitement. But as the scene unfolded, someone in the crowd had the foresight to pull out a phone. Within minutes, a video of Ainsley taking down the group of hooligans began to spread online, the footage catching fire across social media.
Just as Ainsley’s patience ran out, and she was preparing to finish off the last of the group, the unmistakable sound of sirens interrupted her.
Ainsley paused, glancing over her shoulder, a flicker of irritation crossing her face. She had no intention of going any further—she wasn’t trying to get the police involved.
When the officers arrived, their eyes scanned the familiar scene. They had seen Scar and his gang countless times. As they took in the scene—Scar and his cronies lying on the floor, nursing bruises—the lead officer let out a resigned sigh.
“Who called the police?” the officer asked, his voice calm but firm.
“I did,” came a low, magnetic voice that stopped Ainsley in her tracks.
She looked up in surprise, and her gaze locked onto Manuel, who stood just inside the club’s entrance, his expression unreadable.
Ainsley’s heart skipped a beat. Manuel? What was he doing here?
Behind him, Roman waved enthusiastically, his smile wide. “Hey, Ainsley! Long time, no see!”
Ainsley’s thoughts raced. She hadn’t expected to see him tonight, especially not in this situation. But she couldn’t deny that his appearance was a welcome surprise. He didn’t come to help her physically—he hadn’t even stepped forward—but his arrival, and the way he’d called the police, had ensured she didn’t get into further trouble.
It was as though he had known exactly what would happen. That Ainsley could handle herself just fine.
The moment she locked eyes with Manuel, she couldn’t shake the feeling that he had been watching her, not just tonight, but perhaps for longer. He knew her—knew her strength, her resilience. He had been a step ahead all along.
