Dangerous Man

"Have you lost your mind?!" I yelled, grabbing a chair to put some distance between us.

"You think you're so fucking smart!" he screamed, advancing on me. "You ruined everything! You destroyed this family!"

"I didn't destroy anything!" I shouted back. "You did this to yourself! To all of us!"

He swung the bottle again, this time the broken, jagged edges of the glass glinting menacingly. I ducked, feeling the rush of air as it passed over my head.

"I'm not afraid of you," I said, trying to sound braver than I felt. "You've always been a coward."

"Shut up!" he roared, swinging again.

I grabbed another chair, throwing it at him. He stumbled back, dropping the bottle and clutching his hand where the glass had cut him.

"You're pathetic," I said coldly. "This is why you failed. This is why Mom left you. Why Emily betrayed you. Why Tony's rotting in prison. Because you're weak."

His face twisted with rage, but he didn't move to attack again. Instead, he glared at me with pure, unfiltered hatred. "You think you've won, don't you?"

"I have won," I said. "And there's nothing you can do about it."

Bastard!" he shouted, lunging at me. We grappled, fists flying, years of pent-up anger and bitterness fueling the fight. He managed to land a punch on my jaw, making my head snap back.

"You've always been a disappointment!" he yelled. "A failure! A disgrace!"

I responded with a punch to his gut, making him double over. "And you've always been a shitty father!"

The sounds of our fight echoed through the empty room, but no one dared to intervene.

"You think you're so smart," he panted, struggling to catch his breath. "But you're nothing. Nothing!"

I grabbed him by the collar, forcing him to meet my eyes. "I'm everything you wish you could be. And I'll prove it by tearing down everything you've built."

With a surge of strength, I threw him across the room. He crashed into the wall, sliding to the floor in a heap. For a moment, he just lay there, gasping for breath. Then he looked up at me, pure hatred in his eyes.

"You'll regret this," he spat. "You'll regret everything."

The aftermath of the initial brawl left the private dining room in a state of disarray. Broken chairs, shattered glass, and an overturned table. My knuckles throbbed, and a metallic taste of blood lingered in my mouth, but I wasn't done. Neither was he.

Dad, with his disheveled suit and labored breathing, looked like a man who had lost everything yet clung desperately to his pride and that was dangerous as he had nothing more to lose. He straightened, cracking his knuckles as he stepped towards me with a determined look in his eyes.

"You think this is over?" he spat, his voice a mix of rage and exhaustion. "I'm not done with you."

I squared my shoulders, bracing for another round. "Bring it, old man."

He lunged at me, and we clashed again, our fists flying. I managed to land a solid hit on his jaw, making him stumble back, but he recovered quickly, retaliating with a vicious punch to my ribs that knocked the wind out of me. I doubled over, but forced myself to stay on my feet, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing me fall.

"You're just like your mother," he sneered, landing another blow to my midsection. "Weak. Pathetic. Brainiac."

I growled, ignoring the pain, and swung at him, my fist connecting with his cheekbone. He staggered, blood trickling from a split lip, but his eyes blazed with unrelenting fury.

"Keep talking, Dad. It's all you're good at," I taunted, wiping blood from my mouth.

With a roar, he charged at me, tackling me to the ground. We grappled, rolling across the floor, each trying to gain the upper hand. I managed to get on top, raining down punches on his face, but he twisted, using his weight to throw me off balance.

We both scrambled to our feet, panting heavily. He came at me again, this time with a brutal uppercut that caught me off guard. My head snapped back, and I saw stars, but I refused to go down. I swung wildly, my fist clipping his shoulder, but he barely flinched.

"You think you're so tough?" he growled, his breath hot against my face. "You're nothing without this family."

I laughed bitterly, even as pain coursed through my body. "This family is nothing without me."

Enraged, he grabbed me by the collar and slammed me against the wall. I felt the air leave my lungs, but I gritted my teeth and kneed him in the stomach. He grunted, loosening his grip just enough for me to push him away.

"Was it fun?! Making a fool of me?! Don't act so innocent! Everything is my fault?! You think once I'm gone everything will be okay? Don't fuck with me!"

We exchanged blows, each punch fueled by years of resentment and hatred. He landed a hit on my temple, making my vision blur, but I swung back, my fist connecting with his nose. I heard a sickening crack, and he howled in pain, blood streaming down his face.

"Give up!" he shouted, his voice cracking with desperation. "Admit that you've lost!"

"Never," I hissed, my voice hoarse. "I'll never give you that satisfaction."

He tackled me again, and we crashed to the ground, locked in a brutal struggle. I felt his fist collide with my ribs repeatedly, the pain nearly unbearable, but I refused to stay down. I punched him in the side, trying to dislodge him, but he was relentless.

Finally, with a surge of strength, I managed to throw him off and staggered to my feet. But he was quicker than I anticipated. He rose, his face a mask of blood and rage, and delivered a powerful blow to my jaw. I felt my knees buckle, and I collapsed to the floor.

I tried to push myself up, but he kicked me in the side, sending me sprawling. I groaned, my vision swimming, but I forced myself to my hands and knees. Another kick landed on my ribs, and I fell again, gasping for breath.

"Stay down!" he roared, standing over me, his chest heaving. "You're beaten. Accept it!"

I glared up at him, my body trembling with effort. "I'll never accept it."

I tried to rise again, but he kicked me in the chest, knocking me flat. Pain radiated through my body, but I gritted my teeth, refusing to give up. I pushed myself up on my elbows, glaring at him defiantly.

"You're pathetic," he sneered, his voice filled with contempt. "A stubborn, useless piece of shit."

I spat blood on the floor, struggling to find my voice. "And you're a coward. Always have been."

He kicked me again, and I cried out, my vision blurring with tears of pain. But I didn't stop. I couldn't. I had to show him that I was stronger, that I wouldn't be broken.

With a Herculean effort, I pushed myself to my knees, swaying unsteadily. He stepped forward, his face twisted with rage, and punched me in the face. I fell back, the world spinning, but still I tried to rise.

"You'll never win," he growled, grabbing me by the hair and yanking me to my feet. "You're nothing."

I swayed on my feet, barely able to stand, but I managed to look him in the eyes. "I'm more than you'll ever be."

With a final roar of fury, he punched me in the stomach, and I collapsed to the floor, gasping for breath. I lay there, my body broken and bruised, but my spirit unyielding.

He stood over me, panting heavily, his face a mask of blood and anger. "Stay down," he said, his voice cold. "Stay down and remember your place."

The room spun as I lay on the cold, hard floor, struggling to keep my eyes open. My body was battered and bruised, every breath a painful effort. But amidst the chaos and my father's retreating footsteps, new sounds broke through the haze.

The waitstaff and security ran into the room, their shouts filling the air. I heard the heavy thud of bodies colliding as they tackled my dad to the ground. There were cries of anger and struggle, the sounds of furniture being overturned in the scuffle. The noise grew louder, mingling with the shrill screams and gasps of patrons outside.

From my vantage point, I could barely make out a blur of figures rushing in. Among them, a young woman held up her phone, recording the scene. Her eyes were wide with shock and fear, but she didn't lower her device, capturing every moment.

Good, that should go viral and be the mail in the coffin.

Voices overlapped in a cacophony of panic and urgency. Three distinct voices frantically spoke into their phones, their words jumbled but unmistakably directed at emergency services. "He's been attacked... we need an ambulance... there's blood everywhere..."

I tried to focus on their words, but my vision wavered, and darkness threatened to take over. Suddenly, an older woman, her face lined with concern, knelt beside me. She pressed her jacket to my head, the fabric quickly growing warm and wet with blood making me feel twice as dizzy.

"Hold on, dear," she said softly, her voice trembling but kind. "Help is on the way. Just stay with me." She gently stroked my hair, murmuring soothing words that I could barely register. "You're going to be okay. Just keep breathing. You're not alone."

The woman's presence was a small comfort in the midst of the pain. Her hands were gentle, and she kept talking, telling me about her grandchildren, about how brave I was, and how everything would be alright.

I wanted to thank her, to tell her I appreciated her kindness, but the words wouldn't come. My body felt heavy, and I could feel myself slipping away. The last thing I heard before the darkness claimed me was her calming voice and the distant wail of approaching sirens.

Then, everything went black.