The room was silent. Tension coiled like smoke in the air as every student stared, barely daring to breathe.
Murmurs began to rise—whispers sliding from seat to seat like nervous ripples in still water.
"That's Rex..."
"From Iron Fang..."
"Why is he here?"
Ethan heard it all—faint, panicked, worshipful. That name, Iron Fang, carried weight.
Fear. Authority. Violence.
And now, it stood at the front of their class with a smirk carved into its face.
Ethan inhaled calmly through his nose and exhaled. His steps were steady as he walked forward through the aisle, the eyes of every classmate glued to him like he was walking toward a guillotine.
He stopped a few feet from the podium, hands lazily shoved in his pockets. His voice, when it came, was flat.
Unimpressed.
"I'm the one you're looking for. Ethan. What's up?"
His tone was too casual. Like Rex had walked in asking to borrow a pen.
Rex turned his head slowly, locking eyes with Ethan.
That smile—mocking, predatory—deepened.
"Good of you to come out voluntarily," he said.
His voice was smooth, but sharp like glass wrapped in velvet.
Ethan shrugged.
"Well, you came into my class kicking down doors like you were in a drama club. Didn't exactly leave me many options."
A chuckle came from Rex. He clapped his hands together once, then twice, like he was applauding a play.
"Bravo. Bravo. Confidence, even in my presence."
He stepped closer, the space between them narrowing. His eyes flicked up and down, studying Ethan. They were nearly the same height—Ethan had maybe an inch or two over him, but not enough to matter. What mattered was how they stood.
Rex moved like a coiled whip. Ethan stood like he didn't give a damn.
"You should know why I'm here," Rex said, voice now lower, more serious.
Ethan tilted his head, letting a small, sarcastic smile appear.
"Hmm... I seem to have forgotten. Care to remind me?"
Rex gave a small laugh—this one colder. His eyes narrowed.
"You laid your hands on two of my boys. One of them's got a fractured jaw, the other can't walk straight without flinching. That's not something I take lightly."
Ethan blinked. "Oh, that?" He scratched the back of his neck like he was trying to remember an old errand. "They came looking for a beating. I just delivered early."
The class collectively gasped. One girl visibly covered her mouth.
Rex's smile vanished for a moment—just a flicker—and then returned sharper than before.
"You're either brave... or incredibly stupid."
Ethan stepped closer until they were face to face, just a breath between them.
"Or maybe I'm just tired of the barking and finally wanted to see the dog."
Rex's eyes twitched—not in fear, but in interest. The air between them was thick now. Students were pulling out their phones under the desks, already recording. Something was going to happen.
Rex looked around slowly, taking in the silent class before resting his eyes back on Ethan.
"You've got balls. I'll give you that. But this isn't over. I didn't come here to fight. Not today."
The tension hadn't even begun to fade when Rex turned back around slowly, his eyes still locked onto Ethan like a wolf circling its prey.
"But I'm not just here to talk," he said, voice low and deliberate. "I'm here to make it official."
Ethan arched a brow. "Official?"
Rex smirked. "You know how things work here. Our school doesn't pretend we're saints. They know the gangs exist. They know we fight. That's why we have the Pit."
Gasps shot through the classroom like sparks.
The Pit. Everyone had heard of it.
An underground arena sanctioned by the school's silent nod—a place where disputes, grudges, and reputations were settled not with arguments, but fists. No teachers interfered. No rules, except one: walk out conscious, or don't walk out at all.
Ethan's interest immediately piqued. He didn't show it, but inside, something shifted—finally, a stage worthy of attention.
"I want to fight you in the Pit," Rex said, stepping forward again. "You and me. No underlings. No excuses."
Ethan blinked slowly, pretending to think. But inwardly, he was grinning like a wolf.
Bingo.
What better way to stir the school than this? To get the students talking. And more importantly—to get Aria Voss's attention. She was sharp. Tactical.
Someone who kept her eye on everything with precision. A public fight in the Pit? That'd put him square in her sights.
Still, Ethan had a role to play.
He leaned back, arms folded across his chest, voice casual.
"Why should I accept?"
Rex's smile returned with venom. "What, you scared?"
Ethan chuckled, shaking his head. "Not really. Just wondering what I'd gain from bruising your ego in front of everyone."
The class let out a collective "oooh," and a few hands covered grins. But the air didn't lighten—it got heavier. Rex wasn't laughing anymore.
"You broke my guys," Rex said, voice tighter. "I should've sent someone to break you. But no—I'll do it myself. You're not worth a gang war. Not yet."
He stepped closer, now face to face with Ethan, only a breath between them.
"So let's finish this the proper way. No interference. No one to save you."
He tilted his head. "Unless... you are chickening out."
Ethan's eyes narrowed, the smile on his face widening slightly—cool and relaxed, but deadly underneath.
"Who said anything about that?"
He leaned forward just an inch, voice calm but laced with iron. "Just making sure you're actually going to show up this time and not send kids to get beat down in your name."
Rex's jaw flexed, but he held the smirk.
"No distractions. No warm-ups. You get me, Ethan. And I'll make sure everyone in that arena sees what happens when you mess with Iron Fang."
Ethan held his stare for a moment longer, then simply nodded.
"Fine. I'll be there."
Rex gave a single, sharp nod. "Three days from now. After school. Prepare yourself."
He turned without another word, brushing past Ethan, his jacket swaying behind him like a battle flag. As he reached the door, he glanced back one final time.
"Don't be late."
Then he disappeared through the hallway.
Ethan didn't move for a moment. Then he breathed out slowly, finally letting the grin fully form on his face.
"Perfect," he murmured. "Time to make some noise."