"Dylan!!"
The people around the young man jerked like they'd been shocked. They clearly hadn't expected someone to actually dare lay hands on him.
They rushed over, hauled him up, and steadied him.
"Dylan, you alright?!"
"Pff—" Dylan spat out a mouthful of blood, eyes locked on Chris with pure hatred.
"Fuck!" he snarled. "You hit me? Kill him. Kill him right now. If anything happens, I'll take responsibility!"
"Got it!"
The guys with him smirked and started walking toward Chris like this was already over.
Meanwhile, a crowd gathered fast from every direction. Human nature—nobody ever hated a good show.
"These guys have some balls. They actually hit Dylan Voss."
"He's probably new. Doesn't recognize him."
"New people should be even more careful. Who shows up and starts throwing hands on day one?"
"Probably thinks he's got skills. Those cocky types always get taught a lesson."
