“How… how dare you hit me?!"

The Cobra rubbed his head in disbelief. His hand was covered in blood. In the years since he had taken over South City, no one had dared disrespect him, much less hit him with a bottle.

“This fool must have a death wish!” he thought.

"Sir Draco, take my advice. Let it go," said Dustin calmly.

"Fuck you! I'm telling you, you're dead meat! I'm going to rip you apart!" the Cobra cursed and swore as he returned to his senses.

As the threat left his mouth, a knife was held to his neck. The sharp blade pierced his skin, and drops of blood trickled from the fresh wound. An inch deeper, and the knife would have pierced his artery.

Silence. The entire bar fell into complete silence. The Cobra's roars stopped, along with the crowd's prattling.

Everyone was utterly shocked as they turned to look at Dustin, who was wielding the knife. Hitting Sir Draco with a bottle could still be excused as an accident. Unfortunately, holding a knife to his neck was undeniably