"Hey, rascal! Are you trying to be a hero? I advise you t o run as far as you can. Not everyone can be a hero. A m I right, mates?" one man said.
The rest sneered. "If you want to be a hero, you have got to pay a price. Don't overreach yourself."
"You have one last chance. Get out of the way, otherwise, we can't guarantee what the consequences will be."
But Mark ignored their bluster, strode over with his long legs, and gave the nearest man a good kicking.
That man did not see it coming and was kicked face down to the ground, his head hitting the wall so hard that he wailed in pain.
The other men did not sit idly when they saw their mate beaten. They let go of Summer, got up from the ground, and lunged at Mark while cursing something i n their mouths.
"You must have a death wish!"
"Let's beat the living daylights out of him, mates!"
Mark glanced at them coldly without saying a word, his eyes deep and his face grave.
A melee started. In the silence of the night, there was
only the sound of fighting and men wailing and cursing.
Summer's hair had turned messy, her clothes tattered. Trembling in the cold and gritting her teeth, she took her cell phone out of her pocket with her shivering hand and pressed the emergency number, but said nothing.
The situation was dire. If the gangsters knew she called the police, it would anger them and they could become even more violent.
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