The Prison-Made Queen novel Chapter 802

A blast of icy night air hit him the moment he stepped outside. Milford took a deep breath, letting the chill clear some of the alcohol-induced fog in his brain.

He looked down the street. It was late, and the city was asleep. The damp pavement reflected the amber glow of the streetlights, and a few stray wrappers danced in the wind. Standing just outside the club with the muffled bass thumping against his back, he felt an overwhelming sense of isolation.

Pulling a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, he placed one between his lips and cupped his hands to light it. The ember flared bright red before dimming, the smoke curling up to blur his sharp jawline in the shadows.

He didn't notice the dark figures silently converging in the alleyway just behind him. A glint of cold metal flashed in the gloom.

Milford had only taken a few steps away from the club when the chaotic sound of footsteps erupted behind him. He spun around, but before he could even register the faces, multiple sets of hands grabbed him and violently dragged him into the pitch-black alley.

"What the—get off!"

His reflexes kicked in. The second he was grabbed, he threw a vicious elbow back, connecting hard with someone's ribs. The grip on him loosened with a grunt of pain.

But before he could catch his breath, he realized how bad the situation was. The narrow alley was packed with bodies.

Stepping out of the shadows with a lit cigarette hanging from his mouth and a steel pipe tapping against his palm was Blondie. He wore a sickeningly cruel smile.

"You were talking real big a minute ago," Blondie sneered. "Let's see how loud you talk now."

But no matter how skilled Milford was, he was hopelessly outnumbered. The moment his fist connected with Blondie, the rest of the crew swarmed him. Bats and chains rained down from every direction.

Milford blocked a few strikes and kicked back the guy at the front, but blunt force slammed into his back and shoulders, shooting fiery pain through his nerves. In the chaos, a steel pipe cracked against his shin. He bit back a groan and stumbled.

That split-second opening was all they needed.

Out of nowhere, a heavy wooden bat swung hard, connecting directly with the back of Milford's skull. The world flashed black. Blinding pain erupted in his head, and warm blood poured down his temple, blurring his vision.