Chapter 177

The words felt oddly familiar, like something I’d heard earlier that day—not directly from Ron, but him quoting the CEO. My eyes flicked to Hayden, a fleeting question forming. But knowing him, a connection to the mysterious CEO seemed improbable.

“Tough guy, huh?” The bald leader chuckled coldly, almost amused. “Let’s see what being tough costs you today.” He cracked his neck, each pop a sharp warning, before barking, “Smash it!”

His crew instantly began wrecking the amusement park. Hayden remained motionless. I understood why. He wasn’t scared; he was calculating. This wasn’t random vandalism; it was a direct attack on Jace’s business. The stakes had escalated dramatically.

The amusement park’s security team arrived, swiftly responding. They might not have intervened for Hayden’s sake, but protecting the park was their duty. Despite the intruders’ ferocity, the security team, being more numerous, quickly gained the upper hand.

However, these weren’t amateurs. Just as things seemed under control, the bald leader seized the head of security, pressing a knife to his throat. “Everyone back off, or he bleeds!” he snarled.

My heart pounded. I signaled the security team to release the other thugs. They complied. But the bald man held his hostage, eyes fixed on Hayden. “Think you’re tough? I love breaking tough guys. Get on your knees and beg, and maybe he lives. Otherwise, he’s done.”

I could remain silent no longer. “You can’t hurt people like that!”

His eyes snapped to me, a leering grin spreading across his face. “Well, well, look what we have here. If you’re so concerned, sweetheart, come closer. I promise, I won’t hurt you—or him.” He was proving the old saying true.

He began dragging his hostage closer, making it clear he intended to harm me whether I moved or not. I braced myself, ready to react.

Before I could, Hayden moved with blinding speed. One moment he was beside me; the next, he stood before the bald man. With a swift, powerful kick, he sent the leader sprawling backward. The man hit the ground hard, his head bouncing twice against the pavement.

The other thugs froze, then shouted, “Darby!” rushing to his side. Seeing their leader so easily subdued, their bravado vanished. They seemed ready to attack Hayden, but he cut them short with a sharp, commanding, “Get lost!”

They froze, then scrambled to assist their bleeding leader, hauling him to his feet before retreating, shaken and disoriented.

I exhaled, surveying the devastation: shattered glass, wrecked rides—complete chaos. Turning to Hayden, I asked, “What’s going on?”

He didn’t hesitate. “It’s about my dad’s car accident. They don’t want me investigating.”

Stunned, I stared at him. If they were going to these lengths, something was definitely amiss concerning his father’s death.

Instinctively, I asked, “What have you found out?”

Hayden fell silent, the awkwardness of my question—especially after days of avoiding him—becoming painfully clear. I gave a nervous smile. “Never mind—”

Before I could finish, someone called, “Mr. Johnston.”