The three boys spun around.
"Mind your business, rich boy," the big one said. He let go of Marcus and stepped toward Blake. "Unless you want some too."
Blake didn't stop walking. But he also didn't raise his hands.
He moved, very deliberately, until he was standing between the three boys and Marcus. Exactly the way Daniel had stood between him and Emily at the party.
"Marcus, go inside," Blake said without turning around. "Door's still unlocked. Call your mom."
"Blake—"
"Go."
Marcus ran.
The big kid's face twisted. "You think you're tough?"
"No," Blake said honestly. "I think you're about to do something you'll regret, and I'd rather you didn't."
The kid swung.
It was a wild, sloppy punch. Blake saw it coming a mile away. He could have blocked it. He could have caught the arm and twisted it and put the kid face-first into the pavement.
Instead, he simply turned his head and let the fist glance off his cheekbone.
It hurt. His eye watered. He tasted blood where his lip split against his teeth.
But he didn't hit back.
He just looked at the kid. Steady. Calm.
"You done?" Blake asked quietly.
The boy stared at him. His fist was still raised, but now it was trembling. He had expected a fight. He had expected rage. He didn't know what to do with a man who just stood there and took it.
"What's wrong with you?" the kid muttered.
"Nothing anymore," Blake said. "How much does Marcus owe?"
"What?"