PART 2 — THE CONVOY ARRIVED, AND THE BULLIES STOPPED LAUGHING
The thug's hand was inches from the elderly woman's phone when a deep rumble rolled through the park.
He paused.
The sound grew louder.
Engines.
Multiple engines.
At the far end of the road, a line of black SUVs appeared between the trees, moving fast enough to send pedestrians scrambling toward the sidewalks.
The thug slowly turned his head.
His friends stopped laughing.
One SUV swung into the park entrance. Another followed, then another, until the black vehicles filled the road beside the shattered guitar.
The doors opened almost simultaneously.
Men in dark suits stepped out, scanning the area with hard, disciplined expressions. Several moved ahead, creating a clear path through the startled crowd.
Then the rear door of the lead SUV opened.
A bald man wearing black sunglasses and a thick silver chain stepped onto the pavement.
It was the woman's son.
He looked across the park and immediately spotted his mother standing beneath the trees, her face wet with tears, her hands trembling around her phone.
Then he saw the broken guitar scattered across the concrete.
His expression went completely cold.
He walked toward her without saying a word.
The elderly woman could barely hold herself together. The moment he reached her, she grabbed his arm and broke into tears.
He gently placed a hand on her shoulder, checking that she was unharmed.
Then he turned toward the group of young men.
The thug tried to laugh, but the sound died in his throat.
Behind the newcomer, more men stood beside the SUVs. The crowd that had cheered moments earlier had fallen silent.
The bald man removed his sunglasses.
His eyes settled on the thug holding the broken guitar neck.
The young man's confidence began to crumble.
He glanced at his friends, hoping one of them would say something.
Nobody did.
The mob boss looked down at the shattered instrument, then back at the men surrounding his mother.
His voice was quiet, but every word carried across the pavement.
"Which one of you did this?"
Nobody answered.
The thug slowly lowered the broken guitar neck.
For the first time since the confrontation began, he looked as though he understood the seriousness of what he had done.
But the man standing before him wasn't finished.
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He took one step forward.
And the entire group instinctively stepped back.
