The six loan sharks entered the market as if the place belonged to them. The glass door was still swinging when the two who had destroyed Elena's pawnshop let out a smirk upon seeing her standing near the counter, frightened and almost shrinking under their gaze.
Eric stepped forward before anyone said a word.
"Right this way, gentlemen," he said with a light, almost silly smile — but a calculated one. "Let's head to the counter, please."
He led the group toward Elena. They took up the center of the shop like a pack of predators surrounding prey. One of them, wearing a thick gold chain, a light black jacket, and stubble on his face, tilted his head and looked at Elena with a disgusting expression.
"Good morning, sweetheart," he said, flashing a crooked grin.
Elena instinctively stepped back, her face going even paler.
"What? Scared of him?" another thug teased, laughing at her reaction.
Seeing the situation about to spiral out of control, Eric stepped forward and placed himself between the men and Elena, blocking their view.
"Your business is with me," he said, still smiling, but with a firm gaze.
The shortest man — clearly the leader — stepped in until his chest nearly touched Eric's, invading his personal space. He had neatly trimmed dark hair, cold eyes, and the demeanor of someone used to watching people tremble before him.
"And who are you?" he asked, eyeing the store uniform Eric was still wearing. "We're here to settle a private matter with her." He pointed his chin in Elena's direction. "Get back to your job."
Eric smiled — truly smiled.
"There's been a small misunderstanding," he replied. "I'm the one who scheduled this meeting. And I'm the one who called you here to receive payment."
One of the thugs, more anxious, looked around as if expecting cameras, an ambush, something hidden. But all he saw were aisles with shelves, refrigerators, and an ordinary checkout counter.
The leader raised a hand in a short gesture, signaling him to calm down. He wanted to hear what Eric had to say.
"And what's your relationship with her?" he asked, narrowing his eyes.
Eric turned and, without hesitation, took Elena's hand. He intertwined their fingers in an intimate, confident way. Elena nearly choked. Had he not asked her beforehand to agree with anything he said, she probably would have slapped him right then.
"We're engaged," Eric replied.
The leader frowned, annoyed but not surprised.
"Your relationship with her means nothing to me," he said. "I just want to know if you brought my money."
Eric stepped behind the counter and crouched, grabbing something he had left on the floor earlier. One of the men tensed, hand moving into his jacket as if ready to draw a weapon, but relaxed when he saw Eric lift only a dark sports bag.
He slammed the bag onto the counter.
The metallic clatter of coins echoed through the store.
Elena stopped breathing.
The thugs widened their eyes.
The bag was full of gold coins. Full.
"I—is that what I think it is?" the leader asked, leaning closer.
"Yes," Eric said calmly. "Over two hundred thousand euros in gold coins. Enough to pay Elena's late father's debt — plus extra for the trouble."
"Where did you get all that?" the mafia man asked, his voice faltering for a moment. "All that gold?"
Eric only smiled.
"Let's say there are people very interested in my talents."
The men began to fidget, excited. One of them practically drooled over the coins.
"Boss, look at this!" one of the brutes cheered. "We can take a long vacation… I haven't seen this much money in ages!"
While the group was buzzing with excitement, the leader remained serious. Even Elena, gasping, noticed something was wrong in his eyes. He didn't look happy.
He looked… calculating.
Still, he grabbed the bag of coins and started walking toward the exit. Elena let out a breath of relief so strong her knees nearly buckled.
Just a few meters from the door, Eric asked:
"Are we free? Is she free?"
The mobster stopped.
He stayed silent for a few seconds.
Then smiled.
"Yes."
Elena burst into tears, as if something had broken inside her. Eric moved closer, wiping her face, trying to calm her.
"For now," the mobster added casually, without turning around, a malicious grin spreading across his face.
Relief shattered instantly.
"What do you mean by that?" Eric asked, his voice hardening.
The mobster walked back slowly until he was inches from Eric. He tapped Eric's cheek three times — light taps, but full of dominance.
"Relax," he said in a falsely gentle tone. "If you don't have money or gold for the next payment… I accept other forms of compensation."
He lowered his gaze toward Elena's legs.
Disgustingly.
Eric's blood boiled.
"That wasn't the deal!" he exploded. "We're paying more than the original debt to free her!"
"Sorry," the mobster replied with a short smile. "But the debt increased again. This morning, to be exact."
He leaned in closer, invading Eric's space, testing boundaries. Behind him, the other five men resumed their positions, surrounding the counter again.
Elena stepped back. Panic surged again. The tension in the air felt heavy enough to suffocate.
Then, suddenly — like lightning in a clear sky — Eric started laughing.
Laughing loudly.
Laughing uncontrollably.
The leader frowned, irritated.
"Are you insane?" he asked.
Between bursts of laughter, Eric began taking off the store uniform. He tossed the red cap onto the counter, unbuttoned the worker shirt, and revealed underneath his usual black shirt and jeans.
When he finished, the laughter stopped.
"Well…" he said, now serious. "I tried to be polite. I even told you about my relationship with Elena. And still, you chose to work against me."
He stepped forward.
"You showed your best cards," he continued. "You made sure to humiliate me in front of my fiancée."
The mobster let out a mocking laugh, and the others closed in, ready to attack him at any moment.
Eric inhaled deeply.
"Now let me show mine."
He raised his chin and shouted:
"BLACK FALCON!!!"
The echo of his voice had barely faded when shadows began to move inside the store.
From behind shelves, from the aisles, near the refrigerators — men dressed in black, armed, wearing black balaclavas emerged. Their steps were firm, coordinated, precise. Within seconds, they formed a perfect circle around the six loan sharks, aiming their weapons directly at them.
The sound of magazines being readied filled the store.
"What is this?" the leader asked, his voice cracking.
"This," Eric said, without smiling, "is my move."
He crossed his arms.
"I think now, finally… we can talk."
The silence that followed was absolute.
For the first time that morning, Elena and Eric weren't the ones in panic.
The six loan sharks were.