Lust Meter System: Conquering Beauties-Chapter 156: The Boss

Liam stood about fifty feet from the warehouse.

Hawks’ old place.

The last time he’d been here, Hawks had been bleeding out on the floor. Dying. Now someone else was trying to claim it.

The building sat low and wide. Single story. Concrete walls painted a faded grey, streaked with rust stains from the metal panels near the roof. No windows on the front. Just solid wall. The big roll-up door at the center was shut tight, chains hanging from the handle.

But there was a side entrance. Regular steel door. Propped open.

And there were people outside.

Seven of them. Standing near the entrance. Passing cigarettes between them. Talking. Laughing.

Liam started walking toward them.

He kept his pace steady. Casual. Hands in his pockets. Just another guy approaching.

Fifty feet became forty. Thirty.

Their voices started to reach him. Faint at first. Just the sound of conversation. Then clearer.

"...telling you, man, she was all over me," one of them said. Shorter guy. Stocky build. Grey beanie pulled low.

Another one laughed. "Yeah, right. She probably felt bad for you."

"Fuck off. I’m serious. We went back to her place and everything."

"And then what? She kicked you out after five minutes?"

More laughter. Someone flicked ash from their cigarette.

Twenty feet now.

Liam could see them clearly. All of them wearing black jackets. Same style. Something stitched on the back in red thread.

Fifteen feet.

The design came into focus. A goblin face. Chinese style. Sharp teeth bared in a snarl. Narrow, slitted eyes. Twisted, angry expression. The stitching was detailed. Professional.

Ten feet.

One of them noticed him. Tall guy. Buzzcut. Scar running through his left eyebrow. He stopped mid-drag on his cigarette and turned his head.

"Yo."

The others turned too.

Conversation died. Cigarettes lowered. Eyes locked on Liam.

Then they moved.

Fast.

One of them grabbed a wooden plank leaning against the wall. Another snatched up a metal pipe from the ground near the door.

The rest just stepped forward, spreading out slightly, fists already clenched.

Liam stopped walking. Held up both hands. Palms out. "Relax. That’s not why I’m here."

The tall guy with the buzzcut didn’t lower the plank. "Then why the hell are you here?"

"I just want to see your boss," Liam said. Voice calm. Even. "Just want to have a chat with him."

One of the others stepped forward. Older guy. Maybe late twenties. Scar cutting down his left cheek from eye to jaw. "Who the hell are you?"

Liam kept his hands up. Non-threatening. "Just another boss. Small gang. Nothing big. I’m here to negotiate. See if your leader wants to absorb mine. Figured it’d be better to talk than fight."

Silence.

The guys looked at each other. A few of them lowered their weapons slightly. Still tense. Still ready. But less aggressive.

Then the guy with the scar on his cheek laughed. Short. Sharp. Mocking. "Pathetic."

A few others grinned.

The tall guy with the buzzcut jerked his head toward the door. "Get inside. We’ll see what the boss thinks of you."

Liam lowered his hands and walked past them.

Through the open door.

And stopped.

The inside of the warehouse was massive.

Way bigger than it looked from outside. The ceiling stretched high overhead, maybe twenty-five feet up, supported by thick metal beams running across the width of the space. Fluorescent lights hung down on chains, casting harsh white light across everything. The floor was concrete. Stained. Cracked in places. Oil spots. Dirt. Old scuff marks.

But what caught Liam’s attention wasn’t the size.

It was the people.

There had to be three hundred of them. Maybe more. Packed into the warehouse. Spread out across the floor in groups.

And they were all doing something.

Some of them were moving crates. Stacking them along the far wall. Others were at long tables set up in rows, sorting through boxes, pulling things out, organizing them into piles. A few were standing near the back, talking, gesturing, pointing at clipboards.

It looked organized. Efficient. Not just a gang hanging out. This was work.

’Damn,’ Liam thought. ’It’s way bigger than I thought.’

He kept walking. Slowly. Taking it all in.

More details came into focus. The crates were marked with symbols. Numbers. Some had the same goblin face from the jackets stamped on the side in black ink. There were tarps covering sections of the floor near the left wall. Couldn’t see what was under them. Tools scattered on top of some crates. Crowbars. Hammers. A few bats.

No one stopped what they were doing when Liam walked in. A few glanced up. Looked at him for a second. Then went back to work.

Then one of the guys near the front yelled out.

"Boss! Someone’s here to see you!"

The warehouse didn’t go quiet. People kept working. But a few heads turned.

Then from the center of the floor, a figure stepped forward.

Tall. Broad shoulders. Muscular arms. Black tank top stretched tight across his chest. Jeans. Boots.

His right wrist was wrapped in a black hand supporter. Tight. Velcro straps pulled snug.

And his left eye was swollen shut. Black and purple. The bruising spread down his cheekbone, fading to yellow at the edges.

He walked toward Liam. Slow. Confident. Arms swinging loose at his sides.

When he got close, he stopped. Crossed his arms. Looked Liam up and down.

"You got a death wish or something?"

’Damn,’ Liam thought, staring at the guy’s face. ’Shay really put a number on him.’

Liam met his gaze. Calm. "I’m looking for your boss."

The guy’s jaw tightened. His voice dropped. Harder now. "You’re looking at him."

Liam stared at him for a second.

Then he smiled.

"No, I’m not."

The guy’s face darkened. "What the fuck did you just say?"

"I said you’re not the boss." Liam’s voice stayed calm. Even. "You’re just some guy they shoved out front to play dress-up. The real boss? He’s too much of a coward to even show his face. Probably hiding in the back somewhere."

The guy’s fists clenched. "You better watch your fucking mouth."

"Or what?" Liam’s smile widened. "You gonna try to hit me? With that busted eye and fucked-up wrist? Pretty sure one of my guys already handled you."

Murmurs started around them. People stopped working now. Turning to watch.

The guy stepped closer. Voice low. Dangerous. "You think you’re tough? Coming in here alone? Running your mouth?"

"I think you’re a fake," Liam said simply. "And everyone here knows it. The real boss is hiding because he’s a pussy. And you’re standing here pretending to be him because you’re too stupid to realize how pathetic that makes you look."

The guy’s face went red.

Then someone in the crowd shouted.

"You want to die?"

"Let’s get this bastard!"

"Who the fuck does he think he is?"

Voices rising. Angry. People started moving closer. Tightening the circle around Liam.

Then one of them moved.

Fast.

A guy lunged from Liam’s right. Swinging a wrench. Aimed straight at Liam’s head.

Liam saw it coming.

He shifted his weight. Leaned back. The wrench cut through the air where his face had been a second ago. So close he felt the rush of air against his cheek.

Then Liam stepped in.

Grabbed the guy’s wrist with both hands. Twisted hard to the left. The guy’s grip on the wrench broke immediately. It clattered to the floor.

Liam didn’t let go.

He yanked the guy forward, off balance, and drove his knee into the guy’s stomach.

The guy folded.

Gasped.

Liam shoved him down. The guy hit the concrete hard. Face first. Tried to push himself up.

Liam dropped on him. Knee pressing into his back. Pinning him.

Then he started punching.

Right fist. Straight down into the side of the guy’s head.

Once.

The guy’s head bounced off the concrete.

Twice.

Blood started pooling under his nose.

Three times.

The guy stopped moving his arms.

Four times.

His body went slack.

Five times.

Completely limp now.

Liam stood up. Slowly. Breathing steady. Looked down at the guy. Blood on his knuckles. Blood spreading across the concrete under the guy’s face.

He turned. Looked at the fake boss. Then at the crowd around him.

"That was for shooting my guy."

Silence.

Three hundred people staring at him.

Liam raised his voice. "So. Is your real boss going to come out? Or should I keep beating your guys until he does?"

The fake boss stepped forward. His voice shook slightly. Not as confident now. "Just because you took down one guy doesn’t mean you can take all of us."

Liam grinned. "I’d like to see—"

Then a voice cut him off.

Calm. Lazy. Bored.

"Oh, so fucking boring. Why are you all still talking and yapping? I’m trying to sleep here."

The entire warehouse went silent.

Everyone froze.

Liam turned his head, scanning the space, trying to find where it came from.

Then he saw movement near the back.

A figure pushed off one of the crates. Stood up. Stretched his arms overhead. Yawned. Wide. Then brought one hand up and rubbed his eyes with his knuckles. The other hand went to his head, scratching through his hair roughly.

Grey hoodie. Hood pulled up. Movements slow. Groggy. Like he’d just been woken up.

He started walking forward.

Slow. Unhurried. Footsteps echoing in the silence.

The crowd parted immediately. People stepped aside without a word. Making space. Eyes down.

He walked straight through the center of the warehouse. Heading toward Liam.

Ten feet away, he stopped.

Pulled his hood back.

Young. Early twenties. Sharp features. Dark hair, rough and messy, sticking up in different directions like he’d been sleeping on it. Eyes half-closed. Sleepy-looking. Annoyed.

Liam looked at him. "Who the hell are you?"

The guy’s face twisted. Disgust. He turned his head to the side like he’d just smelled something rotten. "Huhhh?"

The fake boss stepped forward immediately. Eyes wide. Voice panicked. "You fool! You better apologize right now before you die!"

Liam ignored him.

He stared at the guy in the hoodie.

Above his head, something appeared.

One heart.

Black.

’This guy is dangerous.’

The guy in the hoodie looked at Liam. Tilted his head slightly. "So. You want to know who I am?"

Liam studied him. The way everyone had gone completely silent when he spoke. The way three hundred people were watching him like they were waiting for permission to breathe.

"Actually, yeah," Liam said. "But judging by the way everyone shut the hell up when you opened your mouth, I’m guessing you’re the actual boss."

The guy’s lips pulled into a small smile. "Oh. Pretty observant." He stepped a little closer. One hand still in his pocket. "Yes. I’m the boss of this group. My name is Ig—"

He stopped mid-sentence.

Waved his hand dismissively.

"Yatty yatty, can you just say what you want? I want to go back to sleep. Please."

Liam blinked. Then he spoke. "If that’s the case, I’m here to challenge you. You don’t seem like the kind of guy who talks too much, so I’ll be direct. If I lose, you get our base too. Along with this one."

The guy stared at him.

Then shrugged.

"It’s not really a bargain. I was always planning on coming to take your base anyway. After that guy came to bother me last time."

’He doesn’t even care that Shay beat one of his guys half to death,’ Liam thought.

"In that case," Liam said, "I’m putting everything on the table for you. So I don’t see why you’re complaining."

The guy nodded slowly. "You’re right. I know that. But unlike when I attack, you’re actually prepared now."

Liam raised an eyebrow. "So you were just planning on a sneak attack?"

"Oh, sorry." The guy’s tone didn’t change. Still flat. "I thought when I shot your guy last time, that made it clear I don’t play fair."

Liam’s jaw tightened. "So you were the one who shot Shay."

The guy didn’t answer.

Just looked at him with those half-closed eyes.

Liam stepped closer. Voice cold. "Alright. Then let’s play by your style. Me and you. Anything goes. You can do whatever you want. But I’m going to give you some advice. Don’t lose."

The guy tilted his head. "And why is that?"

Liam’s eyes didn’t waver.

"Because I’m going to kill you."