As Ethan's thoughts drifted away, wondering what Coach Winkins had in store for them, a commotion erupted from the car park. The air reverberated with the throaty roar of a luxury car engine:
"Vrooommm...".
Asher's elbow nudged Ethan's ribs, snapping him back to reality. "Ethan, checkout that car!" Asher pointed toward the parking lot, his eyes shining with excitement.
Ethan's gaze followed Asher's direction, and his jaw dropped. Parked in the school lot was a sleek, crimson-red Dodge Charger, its glossy finish reflecting the sunlight. The latest model, if Ethan's eyes didn't deceive him.
"Dang, that's a nice car," Ethan breathed, his envy palpable. "I wonder who owns it?" He couldn't tear his gaze away, imagining himself behind the wheel, feeling the rush of adrenaline as the engine purred to life.
But his fantasy was short-lived. As the car's door swung open, a familiar, yet annoying figure emerged.
"Alex Chen," Asher muttered with spite, his tone laced with disdain.
Ethan's expression soured, mirroring Asher's sentiment. Alex Chen, the son of the wealthy businessman, Victor Chen, was notorious for flaunting his family's wealth.
"Seems like Chen LTD is blooming in business," Asher commented dryly, tearing his gaze away from the car.
Ethan's eyes remained fixed on Alex, who was now admiring his reflection in the car's tinted window. Alex's smug grin seemed to say, "Look at me, I'm the king."
Alex Chen stepped out of the sleek, crimson-red Dodge Charger, his polished black leather jacket gleaming in the sunlight. The jacket's supple leather moulded to his broad shoulders, accentuating his athletic build. A crisp white shirt peeked from beneath the jacket's zip-up collar, providing a striking contrast to the dark, edgy exterior.
His raven-black hair was styled in a perfectly messy, pieced fashion, framing his angular face. Piercing brown eyes, fringed with thick lashes, scanned the surroundings with an air of superiority.
A silver skull-adorned belt cinched his waist, adding an edgy touch to his designer jeans. The jeans themselves were fitted, showcasing his lean physique. Black boots with subtle silver buckles completed his ensemble, giving off an aura of confident, unapologetic style.
As he moved, the leather jacket creaked softly, drawing attention to his fluid, deliberate movements. Every step seemed to proclaim, "I'm Alex Chen, and I own this place." His charming smile, quick to surface, could disarm even the most sceptical observers.
Yet, beneath the polished facade, whispers of entitlement and arrogance lingered. His eyes flashed with a hint of condescension, betraying a sense of superiority. The air around him vibrated with an aura of privilege, as if the world revolved around the Chen dynasty.
With each gesture, Alex exuded an unmistakable swagger, a swagger that declared, "I'm the prince of this domain, and you're just a subject."
As Alex Chen emerged from the sleek, crimson-red Dodge Charger, a swarm of admirers descended upon him. Their faces reflected a mix of awe, admiration, and calculated opportunism.
"Smooth ride, Alex!" Brandon Reyes gushed, his round face creasing into a fawning smile. His well-groomed moustache twitched with excitement. As Alex's right-hand man, Brandon had mastered the art of ingratiation.
Alex's gaze swept across the gathering, his piercing brown eyes acknowledging the praise without surprise. He was accustomed to this treatment, having grown up in the shadow of his wealthy and influential father, Victor Chen.
As one of the largest benefactors of Ashwood Academy, Victor Chen's name carried significant weight. Teachers and administrators catered to Alex's every whim, turning a blind eye to his misdeeds. The students, eager to bask in his reflected glory, fawned over him relentlessly.
But beneath the polished facade, Alex harboured a darker nature. He revelled in oppressing the weak, exploiting their fear to feed his own ego. His bullying tactics went unchecked, as teachers hesitated to discipline the son of their esteemed benefactor.
"yeah, I know," Alex Chen said with a cheeky tone, his voice dripping with arrogance. "This is one of the rarest editions of the Dodge Charger. Told my pops to get it, and he did." A self-satisfied smirk spread across his face as he gazed down at the gathered crowd, his eyes gleaming with pride.
The group around him hung onto his every word, their faces reflecting a mix of admiration and envy.
"You know what..." Alex paused, savouring the attention. "After school, we're going for a ride in the car." He tossed the keys into the air, catching them with a flourish.
"Which place are we heading, boss?"
A low, husky voice rumbled from the depths of Jason Dantrize's chest, his words dripping with a quiet confidence that commanded attention. His athletic build seemed chiselled from granite, honed from years of street fighting and intimidation. Jason's broad shoulders and imposing stature made him an intimidating figure, striking fear into the hearts of his peers.
As Alex Chen's loyal enforcer, Jason's role was twofold: to enforce Alex's dominance and protect his interests. His reputation preceded him – a formidable street fighter with a thug's mentality and a willingness to do whatever it took to assert Alex's authority.
Jason's eyes seemed to gleam with a mixture of loyalty and calculation, his gaze constantly scanning the surroundings for potential threats. His rugged features, etched from countless scrapes and brawls, told the story of a hardened individual.
Despite his fearsome demeanour, Jason's allegiance to Alex was rooted in pragmatism. The steady flow of cash and perks from Alex's wealthy family kept Jason bound to his side. He was Alex's valuable lackey, a mercenary willing to do his bidding in exchange for financial security.
As Jason moved, his muscles rippled beneath his fitted shirt, a subtle reminder of the physical force he could unleash. His presence seemed to darken the air around him, casting a shadow of intimidation that kept others at bay.
"I'm taking us to the Dominilis Club," Alex announced, his grin widening. "Let's go celebrate."
Alex Chen's gaze swept across the gathering, his eyes scanning the faces with an air of irritation. "Where is that insolent son of a..." He cursed under his breath, his voice dripping with venom.
Brandon Reyes, standing beside him, frowned in confusion. "Who are you talking about, Alex?"
Alex's expression darkened. "I'm talking about that pathetic wretch I ordered to be here every morning to carry my bag for me."
Brandon's eyes widened as realization dawned. "Julian? I haven't seen him this morning."
Alex's face twisted in anger, his jaw clenched. "That snivelling coward is going to regret this." His voice dropped to a menacing growl.
Brandon couldn't help but feel a pang of pity for Julian. He knew what it meant to incur Alex's wrath.
Brandon knew all too well what it meant to incur Alex's wrath. He had witnessed it time and time again, the relentless barrage of verbal jabs and psychological manipulation that left its victims shaken and submissive. And Julian, poor Julian, had been Alex's favourite target for as long as anyone could remember.
Why Alex singled out Julian was a mystery to Brandon. Was it Julian's timid nature, his awkward demeanour, or simply the fact that he was an easy target? Whatever the reason, Julian had become Alex's daily punching bag, a scapegoat for his every frustration.
Brandon couldn't help but feel a pang of sympathy for Julian. The guy seemed to be the most unlucky person in the world, perpetually caught in Alex's crosshairs. Every morning, Julian would nervously linger around Alex, awaiting his daily orders, his eyes darting anxiously as he tried to anticipate Alex's every whim.
It was a pathetic spectacle, one that Brandon had grown accustomed to but never truly understood. Why did Alex derive such pleasure from tormenting Julian? Was it a power trip, a desperate attempt to assert his dominance over someone, anyone?
As Brandon watched Alex's anger simmer, his mind wandered to Julian's likely fate. Would he be forced to endure another round of verbal abuse, or perhaps something worse? The uncertainty hung in the air like a malignant cloud, casting a shadow over the group.
"Maybe he's running late?" Brandon ventured, attempting to placate Alex.
Alex's glare silenced him. "You think that's an excuse? I pay him to be at my beck and call. He knows better than to disappoint me."
Jason Dantrize, Alex's enforcer, stepped forward. "Want me to take care of him, boss?" His husky voice sent a shiver through the air.
Alex's smile was a cold, calculated thing. "Not yet. Let him think he's gotten away with it. But when I find him...he'll wish he never crossed me."
Alex's gaze swept across the gathered students, his eyes scanning for his next victim. His smile grew, a wicked, predatory grin spreading across his face.
"Hey, you in the glasses, wearing a blue polo shirt," Alex called out, his voice dripping with malice.
A scrawny student's eyes widened as he pointed to himself, fear etched on his face.
"Me?" he stammered.
Alex's smile broadened. "Yes, shithead, you. Get your dumbass over here."
The student, Peter Wels, trembled as he approached Alex. His eyes darted toward the surrounding crowd, searching for an escape.
"What's your name?" Alex asked, his tone dripping with condescension.
"Uhm...P...Peter Wels," he stammered, his voice barely audible.
Alex's smile twisted. "Well, congratulations, Peter Wels. You've been promoted to my personal bag carrier."
The message was clear: carry the bag willingly or face the consequences.
Peter's eyes dropped, resignation written across his face. "Ye...yes, sir."
With a hesitant nod, Peter trudged toward the car and picked up Alex's bag.
"Boys...let's bounce," Alex declared, leading his entourage toward the school building.
As they disappeared into the crowd, Peter's fate was sealed. He had become Alex's latest pawn.