Chapter 266
Chapter 266:
Two men charged at Cole, swinging heavy steel pipes at his skull.
Cole didn’t flinch. His body moved with a terrifying, biomechanical speed. Rather than dodge the first swing, he raised his left forearm and absorbed the impact of the steel pipe with a dull, sickening thud. The attacker’s eyes widened — Cole’s arm hadn’t buckled at all. Before the man could process it, Cole’s right hand shot out, closed around his throat, and drove him backward into the container wall.
The second man swung low at his legs. Cole brought his boot down hard onto the man’s ankle. The bone snapped with a wet crack. The man dropped, screaming.
Cole didn’t stop. He was a black tornado cutting through the center of the pack, indifferent to the blows glancing off his shoulders, his eyes locked entirely on the blond man.
He launched his body forward and drove his knee into the blond man’s sternum with the force of a freight train.
The impact was catastrophic. The blond man flew backward like a broken ragdoll, slammed into the container wall with a hollow, resonant thud, bounced off the metal, and collapsed onto the wet concrete. Blood poured immediately from his mouth.
He did not move again.
Cole slowly uncoiled his massive frame and stood upright among the groaning bodies on the wet concrete. His breathing was heavy, rhythmic, and terrifyingly calm.
He reached up with bloodstained fingers and unbuttoned his ruined suit jacket, shrugged the soaked fabric from his broad shoulders, and let it drop to the filthy ground. He pulled his silk tie loose and tossed it aside. Then he turned his head slowly, his dead, black eyes settling on the five men still standing.
𝗜𝘯𝗍𝘦𝗇ѕ𝗲 𝗋𝘰mа𝗻се 𝗈𝗇
Mick took a step backward. His bravado had dissolved entirely. His hands shook as they gripped the steel pipe.
“Who the hell are you?” Mick stammered, his voice cracking with genuine terror.
Cole didn’t answer. He rolled his shoulders slowly, the thick muscles beneath his wet white shirt shifting like cables under tension. He cracked his neck. The sound echoed sharply in the enclosed space.
Then he moved.
What followed was not a fight. It was a demonstration of raw, overwhelming physical dominance — not the calculated efficiency of a trained fighter, but the crushing force of a man built like a demolition machine who had stopped caring about consequences. Cole threw his full mass into every collision, using the most direct, devastating impacts to dismantle whoever was in front of him.
He caught a swinging baseball bat with his bare left hand, absorbing the blow without flinching, and with his right drove a palm strike upward into the attacker’s nose. The man dropped instantly. Another thug lunged at him from behind. Cole drove his elbow backward into the man’s solar plexus with enough force to empty his lungs completely. The thug’s eyes rolled back and he collapsed without a sound.