Leo woke up with a grin already on his face.
No alarm. No headache. No regrets.
Just a strange, addictive excitement humming in his chest.
He sat up slowly, stretched his arms over his head, and took a long breath. The morning sun filtered through the blinds, painting golden stripes across his bed.
This was it.
Today's the day.
Today, he was going to talk to her.
He didn't know her name, didn't know her voice, didn't know anything—but somehow, she already felt familiar. A mystery he needed to solve.
He rolled out of bed, still smiling, and made his way to the bathroom.
---
Downstairs, the kitchen was already buzzing with activity. His mother was at the sink, humming quietly as she cleaned dishes, while his father sipped coffee and scanned his tablet.
Leo walked in, stretching his arms.
"Morning," he said brightly.
Both parents looked up.
Mrs. Reinhart raised an eyebrow. "Well, good morning. That's two days in a row."
"Don't sound so surprised," Leo replied, grabbing a glass and pouring orange juice. "I can be polite, you know."
His father glanced over his tablet. "You're in a good mood again."
Leo nodded as he drank. "Yeah. I've got something to do today."
His mother wiped her hands with a towel. "Something that doesn't involve trouble, I hope?"
Leo smirked. "No trouble. Just… clearing my head."
They didn't push.
It was too rare to see Leo like this, and they weren't about to jinx it.
---
An hour later, he was back in his room, standing in front of the mirror, trying to pick the right T-shirt.
He wanted to look… normal.
Not like he was trying too hard. Not like he was some thug stalking a school gate.
But at the same time, he didn't want to look like a complete mess.
Simple black tee. Clean jacket. No smell of cigarettes today. Cool but not loud.
He looked at his reflection and nodded once.
"Alright. Let's go."
He grabbed his helmet and slung his leg over his motorcycle.
But just as he turned the key—
Buzz buzz.
His phone vibrated in his pocket.
He pulled it out.
Raka.
> Raka: "Leo. Emergency. Call me. Now."
Leo frowned.
Before he could reply, the phone rang.
"Yo," Leo answered.
"Leo, you need to get here. Now," Raka's voice was tense.
"What happened?"
"Agus got jumped. Some punks from that Westside crew."
Leo's expression darkened instantly. "Where are you?"
"Old warehouse lot. Near the train station."
"I'm coming."
He didn't even think.
Didn't hesitate.
He shoved his phone back into his jacket, twisted the throttle, and took off.
The wind whipped past his face, but this time, the joy was gone.
His mind switched into a different gear—sharp, cold, focused.
Gangs didn't attack one of theirs without expecting consequences.
And Leo Reinhart always delivered consequences.
The tires of Leo's motorcycle screeched slightly as he made a sharp turn into the gravel-covered lot behind the abandoned warehouse near the train tracks. Dust flew up into the air. His engine rumbled, echoing in the hollow silence of the place.
He saw them immediately.
His crew.
Raka, Dimas, Anton, Evan—scattered in a loose circle, their faces tight, their bodies tense. In the middle of them sat Agus, slumped against a crate with blood on his lip and a bruise already darkening on his cheek.
Leo parked his bike without turning off the engine and jumped off, his boots hitting the ground with purpose.
"What the hell happened?" Leo asked, walking straight to Raka.
"They followed him," Raka replied, jaw clenched. "He was heading home from his cousin's place. Two guys cornered him with pipes. No warning. Just started swinging."
Agus wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "They didn't even say anything. Just laughed and hit me."
Leo crouched beside him. "You okay?"
"I've had worse," Agus muttered. "But I know one of their faces. It's that freak from the Westside—the one with the scar over his eyebrow."
Leo stood slowly, his jaw tightening. His fingers curled into fists at his sides.
"And they think they can get away with this?"
Before anyone could answer, the sound of approaching engines echoed through the lot.
One. Two. Then three more.
Leo turned sharply, eyes narrowing.
Five motorbikes roared into the clearing, tires crunching on the gravel. All black jackets. All faces Leo recognized.
Westside.
At the front of the pack was exactly who Leo was expecting—the one with the scar.
Reza.
The bikes parked in a loose formation, and the riders got off slowly, one by one, like wolves circling prey.
Reza smirked as he stepped forward, metal chain in one hand, swinging lazily.
"Well, well," Reza said, his voice full of amusement. "Looks like the Reinhart pup showed up after all."
Leo took one step forward. "You attacked one of my guys. On our turf."
Reza shrugged. "He looked at me funny."
"He was walking home."
"And he should've kept his eyes down."
Raka stepped beside Leo. "You planned this."
Reza gave a slow, mocking smile. "Maybe. Maybe not."
Leo's voice dropped. "You crossed a line."
Reza's grin widened. "Then cross it back."
For a moment, the world held its breath.
Silence.
Just the wind, the ticking of hot engines, and the distant sound of a train horn.
Then—
"GO!"
Leo's voice cut the air like thunder.
Everything exploded at once.
Boots stomped forward.
Metal clanged against metal.
Gravel flew.
Fists flew harder.
---
The fight was chaotic.
Raw.
Messy.
Real.
Leo moved like instinct—dodging a swing from a pipe, landing a hard punch to one guy's stomach, then spinning around to elbow another in the jaw.
Raka was beside him, holding off two guys at once with a broken chair leg.
Evan tackled someone to the ground, while Dimas wrestled with a guy trying to swing a crowbar.
Screams and curses filled the air.
The metallic scent of blood. The sharp stings of bruises forming under skin. The rush of adrenaline clouding pain.
Leo grabbed a broken wooden plank and cracked it over someone's shoulder, sending the guy collapsing to the ground.
But they just kept coming.
Reza stayed back, watching.
Smiling.
Enjoying the show.
---
Then Leo saw it.
Reza raised his arm—a glint of silver.
Too late.
One of Reza's guys had circled around behind Leo.
A flash of movement.
Then—
Pain.
It stabbed into his side.
Sharp.
Hot.
Blinding.
Leo gasped, stumbling backward, clutching at his ribs.
His fingers came away red.
Very red.
He fell to one knee, breathing hard, the world suddenly spinning.
The fight kept going around him, but the sounds became muffled, distant.
"Leo!" someone shouted—Evan? Dimas? He couldn't tell.
Hands tried to grab him, but he staggered, falling sideways into the dirt.
The sky above him blurred.
His chest burned. His limbs felt heavy.
But worse than all of it—
He still hadn't learned her name.
His vision swam.
Voices echoed.
Then…
Darkness.