The next morning, Vincent was woken by a knock on his room door. It was Jay, dressed in casual gym clothes.
"Get ready, the boss wants to have breakfast with you."
Vincent quickly freshened up and followed him.
He led him to a private gym tucked away at the back of the house, outfitted with state-of-the-art machines and a full-sized UFC cage at its center.
"Being invited to breakfast means the boss considers you his friend. Only special members are invited to have breakfast with the boss."
Inside, there were only a few guys present—the same ones Alen had previously told him were the top men. Garo was doing handstand push-ups, while Spade was busy pounding away at a punching bag.
Scarface was sitting quietly in the corner, which even Vincent found surprising. Seeing Scarface outside the bar was a rare sight.
In the fighting ring stood Don Angel and Gutter.
Don Angel was shirtless, revealing a large saber-toothed tiger tattoo with angelic wings covering his back. It was a gracious piece of art that only added to the intensity of the man.
Gutter wore a tank top, his muscles bulging beneath a layer of fat. He was just as terrifying, though for different reasons.
It looked like they were about to spar. Seeing a tank like Gutter go up against Don Angel wasn't what Vincent expected, but it was still an interesting matchup.
Gutter was the first to attack, throwing his signature blow to the gut.
Don Angel raised his guard, meeting the strike with the sharp point of his elbow. The punch landed flush, turning his block into a punishing counter that made Gutter flinch and shake out his fist.
But Gutter didn't relent. He came back with a swing to the head. Don Angel dodged, swiftly moving his head aside before following with a flurry of jabs.
The quick punches were too fast for Gutter to react to, but they carried little power, leaving him almost unscathed.
Vincent paid close attention. From the way they moved and the skill they displayed in just a few seconds, he knew he was nowhere near their level—not just in technique, but in strength, speed, and endurance.
Gutter tried to snatch Don Angel's hand from the air, but Angel slapped it away.
Jay, also watching closely, raised a brow. "I've never seen Gutter do anything other than punch before."
"Seems like he's learning new things," he added with a chuckle.
Gutter charged again, this time keeping low. He dived for Don Angel's lower body, grabbed him before he could react, and lifted him clean off the ground before slamming him down hard.
But before Gutter could fully turn away, Don Angel was already back on his feet.
"You've finally started to grow," he said with a chuckle.
Vincent could only imagine someone like Gutter still having room to grow when he was already a beast. But the most unsettling thing was how easily Don Angel had gotten back up after taking such a direct hit.
Now a wide grin spread across Don Angel's face—he was clearly enjoying the fight.
Gutter lunged again, trying to repeat the same move, but this time luck wasn't on his side. Don Angel stepped in, driving his knee straight toward Gutter's face. The blow sent him stumbling back a few steps, blood trickling from his nose, but he stayed standing.
Gritting his teeth, Gutter charged once more.
Don Angel exhaled slowly, calm and unshaken. He waited for Gutter's strike, then deftly caught his hand and used his momentum to spin him a full 360 before slamming him down hard on his back.
"That's enough," he sighed, stepping out of the cage.
Gutter slammed the mat angrily, mumbling under his breath as he left the ring and went straight for a pair of heavy dumbbells. The weights were so massive that with each lift, Vincent could see every muscle in his body bulge.
As Don Angel approached, he threw a series of rapid punches in the air, like he was shadowboxing.
His lightning-fast fists stopped just a few inches from Vincent's face.
"You didn't close your eyes even once?" he said with a small grin.
"Did you trust I wouldn't hit you? Or were you trying to follow my punches?"
"Someone once told me you can see how strong a man truly is in his eyes—but you'll never know unless you throw hands with him. So, what do you say, Vinnie? You wanna go?" Don Angel asked, almost playfully.
"No, no. Thank you," Vincent replied, feeling his heart skip a beat. After what he'd just seen, he was sure he wouldn't stand a chance—at least not yet.
Hearing about someone's strength was one thing. Seeing it was something else entirely. If Gutter was a beast, Don Angel was the monster that tamed beasts.
"How about you, Jay?"
"Maybe after I've had my breakfast," Jay replied disinterestedly.
Vincent was surprised by the answer. 'How is he not afraid of these monsters?'
'Maybe it's because Jay is a monster himself' he glanced at the smaller figure standing beside him.
Just then, some guys walked in carrying bags of food.
"Finally, the food's here," Garo said, dropping gracefully from his handstand and slipping on his glasses. His accent carried a foreign lilt, and his pale skin—marked with a few tattoos—hinted he was likely from somewhere in Europe.
He was tall and muscular, with straight-cut hair streaked black and white.
He grabbed one of the bags and peeked inside. "Why do you always order Chinese?" he grumbled.
"Because I like it, and so does the boss," Jay replied.
Garo hardly paid Vincent any attention—unlike Spade, who kept glaring at him between punches on the bag.
"Okay, everyone," Don Angel said firmly. "It's time to discuss tomorrow night."