Liam watched casually as Kyle's fingers dug into his collar, yanking him forward with an aggression that sent a ripple of anticipation through the watching crowd. The entire football field fell into hushed murmurs, students exchanging glances filled with both dread and curiosity, their eyes flickering between the towering figure of Kyle and the seemingly doomed Liam. The tension in the air was thick enough to slice through, the unspoken consensus being that this was the moment Liam would pay for whatever newfound arrogance he had displayed.
"Is this guy insane?" someone whispered from the stands, their voice barely audible over the growing hum of the audience. "Did he forget who Kyle is?"
"He must be on drugs," another muttered, shaking their head in disbelief.
Liam, however, showed no fear. His expression remained eerily calm, devoid of the panic that should have gripped someone in his situation. His eyes flickered toward Kyle's hand, which clenched his shirt with increasing force, and without hesitation, Liam's fingers wrapped around Kyle's wrist. A hush fell over the field as he squeezed—not in a desperate attempt to break free, but with calculated pressure that made Kyle's confident smirk falter.
Then, with a sharp twist, Liam ripped Kyle's grip away from his shirt, shoving his hand back with a force that sent a jolt through Kyle's entire body. The murmurs in the crowd turned into stunned silence. Nobody could believe what they were seeing. The same Liam who had been an easy target for years had just overpowered Kyle as if it were nothing.
Kyle's face twisted in disbelief, his mind struggling to process the strength Liam had just displayed. It wasn't just that he had broken free—it was the ease with which he had done it, as if Kyle's grip had been nothing more than an inconvenience.
"What the—?" Kyle started, but before he could finish, Liam's grip tightened, and in the next instant, a sickening snap echoed across the field.
"Ahhhhh"
A scream of pure agony tore from Kyle's throat as he stumbled backward, clutching his now broken wrist. The crowd gasped, some covering their mouths in shock while others exchanged nervous glances. Kyle, the school's most feared bully, had just been physically bested in a way nobody had ever imagined possible.
"Holy shit..." one of the football players muttered, frozen in place.
But Liam wasn't finished. His cold eyes followed Kyle as he staggered back, and before anyone could react, Liam delivered a powerful kick straight to Kyle's chest. The force of the blow sent Kyle tumbling backward, his body rolling down the stands, colliding painfully against the hard concrete steps before crashing against a metal bench with a resounding clang.
For several long seconds, nobody moved. The only sound was Kyle's pained groans as he struggled to lift himself off the ground. Then, suddenly, Sam bolted from the field, rushing to Kyle's side and kneeling beside him, his hands trembling as he tried to assess the damage.
"Shit, Kyle, are you okay?" Sam asked, his voice laced with concern and shock.
Kyle, his face contorted with both pain and rage, forced himself to his feet with Sam's help, his injured wrist hanging limply at his side. He turned his furious gaze toward Liam, his breathing ragged, his pride shattered beyond recognition.
"You'll suffer for this," he spat, his voice dripping with venom.
Liam remained unmoved, his face unreadable as he simply stared at Kyle with a detached expression, as if the boy's threats were nothing more than the empty words of a sore loser.
Daryl and Jack, who had been watching from the sidelines, exchanged looks of unease before stepping forward, their expressions darkening. Daryl's lips curled into a smirk, though his eyes betrayed the simmering anger beneath.
"The first time, you survived," Daryl muttered, his voice barely above a whisper, meant only for himself. "This time, I'll make sure you don't."
With that, he and Jack moved to help Kyle off the field, the trio walking away, their backs stiff with humiliation and brewing vengeance.
The students who had been watching finally snapped out of their stunned silence, whispers erupting all around the field as they tried to make sense of what had just happened.
"Did Liam really just—?"
"No way. No way."
"He broke Kyle's wrist... and kicked him down the stands. What the hell happened to him?"
As the murmurs continued, Dickson, who had been sitting in silent shock throughout the entire ordeal, finally turned to Liam, his face a mix of worry and awe.
"Liam, man... You just made a serious mistake," he said in a hushed voice, leaning in slightly. "You think Kyle and the others are just gonna let this slide? You've stirred up a hornet's nest, bro."
Liam, instead of showing concern, let out a low chuckle before stretching his arms lazily, as if the whole ordeal had been nothing more than an insignificant inconvenience.
"I'll be waiting for them," he said coolly before turning on his heel and casually walking away from the field.
Dickson watched him go, his brows furrowed in deep concern. This wasn't the Liam he had known before. This was someone else entirely, and for the first time, Dickson wasn't sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing.
"Where the hell are you going?" Dickson called after him.
Liam didn't even glance back as he replied, "I have a test to take."
And with that, he disappeared toward the school building, leaving behind a stunned audience, a furious enemy, and a best friend who couldn't help but feel that something huge was about to unfold.