Chapter 3.

“You’re fucking bastard!!” Mike’s voice rang through the air like a thunderclap, his fury palpable. 

His face was red, and his eyes burned with rage.

He pointed directly at Ethan, who was already reeling from the blows he had taken moments before.

Mike’s cronies were circling Ethan like sharks, their fists flying mercilessly.

Ethan stumbled, his vision blurry as pain radiated from his side.

 A cruel punch slammed into his stomach, forcing him to his knees. The thud of their fists hitting flesh, mixed with the mocking laughter of the gang, filled the basketball court.

"Get up, loser!" Mike spat, his words dripping with venom. "I told you not to mess with me!"

Ethan groaned, blood dripping from his mouth, but he pushed himself up, his eyes glaring defiantly through the haze of pain.

“I’m not going to back down, Mike,” Ethan muttered, though his voice wavered with exhaustion.

Mike’s anger only increased. He turned to his friends, gesturing violently for them to continue.

"Beat him down! Show him what happens when you cross me!"

But just as one of Mike’s goons raised his arm for another strike, the screech of tires skidded to a halt at the edge of the court. 

Blue and red lights flashed in the night as the police arrived. The gang froze, momentarily stunned.

“Police! Step away from him!” one of the officers shouted, his tone firm. The other officers rushed forward, pushing through the group of young men.

The gang immediately backed away, making way for the officers.

Ethan, hunched over and covered in bruises and cuts, barely managed to stand.

His legs were trembling, but the pain in his body was nothing compared to the crushing weight of the injustice he felt.

One of the officers, a tall woman with sharp features, glanced over at Ethan before turning to Mike.

“What happened here?”

Mike straightened his clothes, his posture suddenly smug.

He flashed a pained look toward the officer and then at Ethan, his eyes gleaming with calculated malice.

 “This kid attacked me! I was just minding my business, and he jumped me for no reason. He’s crazy! You can see what he’s done to me.”

The police officer eyed Mike skeptically.

Blood was dripping from Ethan’s face, and the cuts on his arms were clearly visible.

“What about him?” she asked, her gaze shifting to Ethan, who was barely able to stand, let alone defend himself.

“Look at him,” Mike said with a sneer.

“He’s the one who’s been beaten. But who do you think started this mess? Me? No. It was him. He came at me, and I had to defend myself.”

One of Mike’s cronies nodded, backing up his story.

“Yeah, we were just walking when this guy came charging at Mike. Totally unprovoked.”

The officers exchanged glances, their skepticism growing.

But just as they were about to ask another question, Mike quickly added, “You know who my father is, right? Sir Moyes. He’s one of the most important men in town.”

Mike’s words hit like a ton of bricks. 

The officers exchanged another look.

There was a noticeable shift in their demeanor, and the woman’s previously firm expression softened.

“We understand,” she said, her voice turning polite.

“We’ll take care of this. Ethan, you’re coming with us.”

Ethan’s heart sank. “But I didn’t do anything wrong! They beat me up!”

He was barely able to stay on his feet as the police grabbed him by the arms, their grip like iron.

 The more Ethan struggled, the more they pulled, dragging him toward their car as if he were the one in the wrong.

Mike, on the other hand, stood there with a smug grin, his arms crossed as he watched Ethan being led away.

“You should’ve just stayed out of this,” Mike said, still smirking. “Now, you’re gonna regret it.”

Ethan couldn’t say anything in return.

His throat was tight, his body in agony, and his mind was spinning with disbelief. 

He had been betrayed—not just by Mike, but by the very system meant to protect him.

The officers shoved him into the back of their car. As the door slammed shut, the last thing Ethan saw was Mike, laughing and waving. 

It was a mockery, a cruel joke.

At the police station, Ethan was locked in a small cell, his body aching.

He leaned against the cold metal bars, staring into the dim light. He was in pain—physically and emotionally.

 This wasn’t how things were supposed to be. He had been a good student, a dedicated worker, and yet here he was, in a jail cell for something he hadn’t done.

A few hours passed before an officer came in, clipboard in hand. “Ethan Elliot,” the officer called, his voice gruff.

Ethan, his face bruised and swollen, lifted his head. “That’s me,” he croaked.

The officer didn’t look up from his papers. “You’re here because of an assault. Bail has been set at $5,000.”

Ethan’s heart raced. “Five thousand dollars?! What about Mike? He hit me, too! Why isn’t he in here?”

The officer finally looked up, his eyes cold.

 He chuckled darkly. “Mike? Do you really think we’re going to arrest the son of Sir Moyes? The richest man in town? Your father’s a pauper, Elliot.

“ What do you think we’re going to do with you? You’re nothing.” he continued his mocking. 

Ethan’s hands clenched into fists, but there was no energy left in him to fight back.

The words stung, but he had no choice but to listen. His voice was hollow.

“This isn’t right. I’m innocent. Why are you doing this?”

The officer’s face twisted into a sneer. “Because Mike’s father owns half of this town, and you? You’re just a kid with no future. Now, stop whining and get used to it. Maybe if you had money, things would be different.”

Ethan’s throat tightened. He was about to speak when another officer entered the room. He looked at Ethan, his eyes wide with confusion.

“Ethan Elliot?” the new officer asked.

Ethan nodded weakly, his voice barely a whisper. “Yes… that’s me.”

“You can go now. Someone has paid your bail.”