Chapter 52: Eden Lake Throwdown
Seeing Steve back down, Brett and his crew erupted in triumphant, mocking laughter.
Then their attention shifted to Jennifer.
Jennifer's stunning figure and knockout looks were impossible to ignore in the afternoon sunlight. These hormone-addled teenagers' eyes lit up with predatory hunger.
"Damn, Brett, check out that piece of ass!" a skinny kid wolf-whistled.
"Way hotter than those skanks we met in town last week!"
Brett's gaze locked onto Jennifer like a heat-seeking missile. He licked his lips, not even trying to hide his lust. Completely ignoring Edward sitting right beside her, he swaggered over.
"Hey there, gorgeous. You here all by yourself? The scenery's nice and all, but I think you'd have way more fun hanging with us," Brett flashed what he probably thought was a charming smile, even reaching out to touch Jennifer's hair.
Jennifer's eyes instantly went cold. A dangerous aura—her succubus nature responding to the threat—began radiating from her.
But before she could react, another hand moved even faster, snatching Brett's wrist mid-reach.
Edward.
He'd stood up without anyone noticing, his face expressionless but his eyes cold as Arctic ice.
"Get your filthy hands away from her," Edward's voice was flat, emotionless.
Brett's wrist was caught in a vise-like grip. The cocky smile froze on his face. He tried to yank free but found the other guy's hand was like a steel trap—immovable.
"Who the fuck are you? Let me go!" Brett, embarrassed and furious, swung his free fist at Edward's face.
Edward didn't even blink.
The hand gripping Brett's wrist twisted sharply while Edward's right foot shot up, delivering a brutal kick straight to Brett's gut.
THUD!
The impact sounded like a baseball bat hitting a side of beef.
Brett folded in half like a lawn chair, his feet leaving the ground as he flew backward a good twenty feet before crash-landing in the sand, kicking up a cloud of dust.
He opened his mouth but no sound came out—just wheezing gasps, his face twisted in pain and shock.
The whole thing happened in maybe two seconds.
Everyone froze.
Brett's buddies stood there with their cocky grins still plastered on their faces, processing what they'd just witnessed. Steve and Jenny were equally stunned—they hadn't expected this clean-cut college guy to fight like a trained killer.
"Boss!"
The teenagers snapped out of it, yelling as they rushed Edward. Two of them pulled switchblades from their pockets, the blades catching the sunlight with an ugly glint.
Edward rolled his shoulders, producing an audible crack.
He didn't retreat. Instead, he stepped forward to meet them head-on.
The first kid reached him with a wild stab aimed at his chest. Edward shifted slightly—barely moving—and the blade passed harmlessly through empty air. His elbow shot out like a piston, connecting with the kid's jaw.
CRACK!
The teenager's eyes rolled back in his skull and he dropped like a puppet with cut strings.
The second knife-wielder hesitated, suddenly terrified.
Edward gave him no time to reconsider. He closed the distance in one step and delivered a knife-hand strike to the kid's wrist.
CLANG!
The switchblade clattered to the ground.
Immediately after, Edward's leg swept in a vicious arc, hammering into the teenager's knee. The kid screamed, grabbing his leg as he collapsed.
The remaining three were completely shook by this absolute beatdown. They didn't even try to fight—just let out panicked yells, turned tail, and ran.
"Where do you think you're going?"
Edward's eyes narrowed, and his telekinesis activated.
The three fleeing teenagers suddenly went down hard—like they'd all simultaneously tripped over invisible wires—eating dirt face-first into the sand.
Silence settled over the lake again.
Only the pained groaning of the beaten teenagers remained.
The Rottweiler, sensing its owner's defeat, bared its teeth at Edward and charged with a savage snarl.
Edward's frown deepened, annoyance flashing in his eyes.
"Get lost."
One word, flatly delivered.
An invisible psychic shockwave slammed into the dog's brain. The vicious animal yelped pathetically, tucked its tail between its legs, and bolted into the woods—gone for good.
Edward walked over to Brett, who was still twitching on the ground, and looked down at him.
"Take your trash and get the hell out of here. If I see any of you again, you'll regret it."
Brett clutched his aching stomach, looked up with eyes full of hatred and terror. He struggled to his feet and, with his buddies' help, awkwardly got his dirt bike upright, fired up the engine, and fled Eden Lake in disgrace.
The angry buzzing of their engines faded into the distance, and peace returned to the lakeside.
Steve and Jenny walked over, still looking shell-shocked.
"Jesus, man, thank you... that was just... wow..." Steve stammered.
"Don't mention it," Edward said dismissively, returning to sit beside Jennifer like he'd just swatted a few mosquitoes.
Jennifer picked up a piece of steak, cut off a small bite, and fed it to Edward with her fork, her eyes full of adoration.
"Master, that was so hot."
The sun was setting now, golden light spilling across the lake in shimmering waves.
Edward glanced at Steve and Jenny, who still looked pretty rattled, and made an offer. "You guys want to join us for dinner? We've got plenty of food."
Steve and Jenny hesitated, but ultimately accepted. When they tasted the food from Edward's "gourmet tablecloth," they were once again speechless with amazement—this was five-star restaurant quality.
Night fell, stars appearing overhead.
The four of them gathered around a crackling campfire, and the atmosphere gradually relaxed into something almost friendly.
Meanwhile, deep in the woods away from the lake, Brett and his crew stared at that warm firelight with venomous hatred burning in their eyes. Brett's face was twisted with rage.
"He's dead... they're all dead..." He forced the words through clenched teeth, his voice a hissing whisper.
Late that night, after the lakeside had gone completely quiet and everyone had fallen asleep, several dark figures crept silently toward the blue Ford sedan, guided by the dying embers of the campfire.
Leading them was Brett. He skillfully used a slim jim to pop open the car door without making a sound. One of his buddies used a knife to slash both rear tires—not flat, just damaged enough to fail after a few miles.
They didn't steal anything valuable from the car. They only quietly took Steve's car keys, cell phone, and wallet from his jacket in the back seat.
Having accomplished this, the figures melted back into the darkness like ghosts, twisted smiles of satisfaction on their faces.
To them, this wasn't just theft—it was a power play. They wanted that "pussy" to understand that at Eden Lake, they made the rules. They wanted to savor the look of despair and helplessness on their prey's face when they discovered everything the next morning.
That anticipation excited them more than any beer or adrenaline rush ever could.
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