Colvey said I had something and wanted to know more. I had no fuckin’ clue what he meant. He stepped in close, his face right up in mine, and for a second, I thought he was gonna headbutt me. His eyes were this icy blue—never noticed before—and they had that look that made you feel small. I stared back, like I wasn’t scared, but I was.

I wanted to ask what his problem was, but Colvey always said silence spoke louder than words. So I kept my mouth shut.

“There’s no one here,” he said. “Told the boys to fuck off.”

Just then, a bit of glass dropped from the busted skylight and smashed on the floor. He didn’t even blink. “But they’re still watching,” he said. “They wanna see me cut you.”

I didn’t dare look away. If I did, he’d know he had me. So, I just stared at his face. They said he had gypsy blood—some bare-knuckle fighter in his family. Probably bullshit. There was a scar under his left eye from when someone bottled him once. Bit of stubble, strong jaw, eyes like razors. Eyebrows shaped. Long lashes. Minty fuckin’ breath.

“You tryna stare me out, bro?”

Didn’t answer. Then he blinked. Looked away for half a second. Tiny moment, but I saw it.

Then—slick movement—blade at my cheek. Pressed it in till I felt it cut. Warm blood sliding down my face.

Door creaked open. Metal scraping.

“You cool?” Mason shouted.

“Fuck!” Colvey hissed. He was pissed.

“All good, bro,” he yelled back, easing the knife away.

I could tell he was gutted. He’d wanted to slice me good. Maybe he still would’ve, but Mason was climbing through the mess toward us.

“What’s going on?” Mason said.

Colvey wiped the knife on his T-shirt, leaving a red smear. “Nothin’, bro. Just sorting a few things. Where’s the boys?”

“They’ve gone. Told ‘em to call it.” Mason clocked the blood on my cheek. “Clean yourself up, dickhead.”

They turned to go. Colvey slung an arm around Mason’s shoulders. Whispered something. Kicked a paint can that rattled off into the dark.

My heart was still banging. I took deep breaths. I’d got off lucky. Stood my ground, though. Still here.

At the door, Colvey turned and shouted, “I’ll see you again, pussy!”

Mason flipped me the finger, then did that wanking motion. “Fuckin’ knobhead!”

That’s when I realised I’d pissed myself.

---

“Bro, answer your fuckin’ phone!” Blake was yelling when I finally picked up. Music blasting behind him. “I’ve been calling loads, you blanked me.”

“Yeah, been busy,” I said.

“Why’s Colvey after you?”

“I dunno,” I said. “Didn’t say.”

“He’s goin’ mental, bruv. Proper mental. Said he’s gonna kill you.”

“Well, he didn’t,” I said. “And I’m goin’ home to sleep.”

“Nah, come Billy’s,” Blake said. “The boys wanna hear what happened.”

I thought about it. But there was a wet patch on my joggers that made me feel sick, and a cut on my face that didn’t bother me at all.

I kept replaying it in my head. I’d done something to piss him off, that much was clear. I just didn’t know what. I hadn’t stolen from him, hadn’t touched his gear, hadn’t said shit behind his back. And I sure as hell hadn’t been with his girl. That was never happening.

Still, this was proper bad. I’d half expected him to stab me, but he hadn’t. Told myself Colvey’d never killed anyone—but who knew? Maybe he just hadn’t needed to.

What scared me most was thinking he might cut me off from the crew. Then what?

The night felt dead. Cold. Empty. And I felt smaller than I’d ever felt before.