“In this city,” he said slowly, “some people think being cruel makes them strong. But the people I respect are the ones who stand up even when it costs them.”
Lucas didn’t know what to say.
“You’re staying here tonight,” Victor added. “Tomorrow we’ll figure out the rest.”
“I don’t need charity,” Lucas muttered.
Victor let out a quiet breath that almost sounded like a laugh.
“Good,” he said. “Because this isn’t charity. It’s paying a debt.”
That night one of the attackers was brought to the club. His name was Dylan. The arrogant confidence he’d had earlier was gone.
Victor pointed toward Lucas.
“Twelve years old,” he said. “And he showed more courage than you.”
Dylan trembled.
“I didn’t mean—”
“But you did.”
Everyone expected Victor to order revenge.
Instead he turned to Lucas.
“You took the beating,” he said. “You decide what happens.”
Lucas froze.
No one had ever given him that kind of choice before.
He thought about every night someone had ignored him when he needed help. About how easy it would be to ask for revenge.
Then he shook his head.
“I don’t want them hurt,” he said quietly.
The room murmured in surprise.
Victor watched him carefully.
“Then what?”