Everyone looked at me like I was crazy—everyone except my mother.
"Can we leave, please?" I asked the leader.
"No. You're supposed to pay us," he said. That's when it clicked, the bastard set us up.
"Pay you? For what?" I asked, genuinely not caring, just trying to push them.
"Rick said she owes him money. Pay that first, then you can leave."
My mother froze when she heard that and looked at me with an expression I didn't recognize. It wasn't sadness, anger, or happiness, it felt more like approval.
"She just met him today after seventeen years. How could she owe him anything when he clearly owes her?" I said, my tone flat.
They turned to look for Rick, and realized he was gone.
That made them angrier.
They weren't letting us leave.
So I moved.
I smashed the bottle over the leader's head, grabbed his collar, and slammed his face into the counter, still holding the broken glass.
My mother slipped past them.
One of the goons swung at me. I ducked and drove the broken bottle into his armpit, then twisted his arm behind his back.
Another came at me. I ripped the bottle free, stabbed into the incoming strike, and kicked him in the gut. As he folded, I yanked the bottle out and drove it into his face, then threw him into the counter near his boss.
I turned, too slow.
A punch cracked across my face, and everything blurred for a few seconds. He grabbed my collar, lifting me to slam me down, but I drove my knee up between his legs.
He folded. I kicked him in the face and stomped him hard before launching myself toward the next guy, using the momentum to close distance.
I hooked his head and flipped him, messy, but it worked. I landed over him and stomped the back of his head hard enough to keep him down.
Another rushed me. I spun and caught him with a kick that dropped him.
The last two didn't hesitate, they pulled guns.
One fired. I moved just in time.
As soon as he shot, I grabbed his wrist, wrenched the gun free, and fired at the other one. The recoil slammed into my hand and threw me off.
Too loud. No control. I wasn't trained for this.
The one I disarmed tackled me and started hammering punches into my face.
Then a shot rang out behind him.
My mother.
She hit him in the back, but the recoil knocked the gun out of her hand.
That gave me the opening.
I shoved him off and broke free.
I went to my mother and asked if she was okay. She was in shock, but she nodded. She was fine.
I picked up the gun that had been fired and made the leader hold it. It helped that it was the same gun I had used.
When I looked around the club, everyone was gone. They probably left the moment the shots were fired.
I could hear police sirens getting closer. I told my mother we needed to kneel in the corner and hold each other until the police came in.
The cops entered and found us there. They told us we had to come to the station to give a statement. We agreed, and they took us along with the guys I had fought.
The ones who were shot were taken by ambulance. The rest were escorted by the police, even the ones still bleeding.
My mother was shaken. My face hurt like hell.
At the station, they asked us to give our statement first since we looked like the victims, which we were.
"Can you tell us what happened?" the officer asked, pulling out a pen and notepad.
"You see, detective, those guys wouldn't let us leave, and the one who looked like the leader punched me first," I said.
Everyone looked at me, my mother included.
"He punched you first? Why?" the officer asked, skeptical.
"Let's go back to the morning. Actually, let's go further back so it makes sense," I said. They nodded.
"On July 25, my mother won a jackpot. The next day, she paid off all her debts. By early August, she started buying luxury clothes, bags, and cars, left and right."
"What does that have to do with tonight?" the officer asked.
"Everything. On my birthday, my mother wanted to go clubbing. I didn't want to go at first."
"If you refused, how did you end up there?"
"I told her if she was going, I was going with her. I wasn't there to drink, I was there to drive her home when she got drunk."
"Alright. That explains why you were there."
"We arrived in a McLaren F1. I'm mentioning the car because it matters, not to brag."
The officer paused writing when I said that.
"We got there, and my mother ordered drinks. Then a man approached her and started talking. I thought he was just flirting, which I didn't mind, but then he asked her for money."
"What exactly did he say?"
"He said he saw us arrive and assumed she had money. We tried to leave, but he stopped us. Then those guys showed up," I said, pointing at them.
"So why did they come? And who was that man?"
"He ran off. He told them my mother owed him money, which isn't true. If anything, he owes her, he never paid child support."
The room went quiet. They understood.
"Anyway, they wouldn't let us leave and demanded payment. I even bought the most expensive bottle in the club to calm things down, but it didn't work."
"Did you break the bottle?"
"They weren't interested in the gesture. Then things escalated."
"What happened next?"
"One of them tried to de-escalate, but the leader shot him in the chest."
The goons started shouting in protest, but the officer ignored them.
"Go on."
"Another guy reacted and knocked the gun away. I saw it on the ground and picked it up. When I fired, I hit the counter by mistake."
"You fired the gun?"
"Yes. Someone saw me and punched me in the face. He pinned me down and kept hitting me. My mother grabbed the gun but hesitated, she was scared she was going hit me."
Everyone in the room stared at me.
"Then the leader took the gun from her and shot the guy attacking me. After that, everything went quiet. By the time I got up, everyone was already down, and that's when you arrived."
The police officer finished writing the report.