Sam shrugged and sipped his beer. During his early days as a soldier, he was told to never kick a hornet’s nest. But over time, he’d found it was a good way to read the room.

This wasn’t going to be pretty.

‘Are all Brits this fucking smug?’ Mason asked, drawing a chuckle from his gang. Sam turned to him.

‘Look, I don’t know you or what you guys do here. To be honest, I don’t care. I’m just looking for Alex.’

‘Bullshit,’ Donnie called out.

‘Fuck’s sake, Donnie. Let me handle this.’ Mason snapped, launching from his chair as if he were shooing away a pigeon. He turned back to Sam, who hadn’t moved at all. The calmness of this mysterious Brit unsettled him, but he wasn’t going to lose face in front of his crew. Especially Donnie. ‘Who sent you here?’

‘I did,’ Sam said, swivelling on his chair. ‘So just tell me where she is, and I’ll be on my way.’

‘See, I don’t believe you.’ Mason shunted a finger at Sam. ‘And you’re really starting to piss me off. Now, I could have my boys hold you down while I carve my name into your stomach with a knife, but I don’t want the mess. So instead, you’re going to tell me exactly who you are, or Donnie here is going to start breaking every bone in your right hand, followed by the left, and then we’ll work up the arms systematically. Understand?’

‘Loud and clear,’ Sam replied, taking the final sip of his beer. As he finished, he calmly laid the bottle on its side on the bar. ‘Ready when you are.’

A flicker of caution passed between the bikers before Mason nodded at Donnie to begin. Sam listened to the footsteps approaching and leant forward, lifting his weight off the stool and placing one foot on the ground. Donnie reached forward to grab Sam by the collar of his jacket, but Sam shunted the stool back, driving it into Donnie’s genitals. Before the man could even howl in pain, Sam dropped his shoulder, grabbed the hand that Donnie had now lazily flung in his direction, and twisted it by the wrist. Quickly, Sam stepped to the side, spun the pained Donnie around and with his other hand, drove the biker’s skull down onto the bar, his forehead shattering the bottle.

Donnie slumped to the floor, unconscious, with glass and the last few drips of beer for company. Infuriated, Jay stormed forward. A guttural roar echoed from his foaming mouth. With nothing but hatred in his crazed eyes, he launched at Sam.

But he’d already given away his weakness.

Sam had clocked it the moment he’d approached.