Blackmailed by the Bully

Alice stood on the corner of Monroe Avenue, her heart hammering against her ribs as she stared at the house four doors down. Outwardly, there was nothing terrifying about the property—a three-bedroom red-brick terrace indistinguishable from the others in the row and not so different from her own. Yet, to her, it loomed like a fortress guarded by unseen sentries, daring her to approach.

The unease twisting her stomach like a tangled vine wasn’t caused by the house itself but by the people who lived there.

Adam Hargreaves and his brother Mike were infamous in town for all the wrong reasons. Everyone knew their names, their reputations, and the trouble they brought with them. Adam, with his quick fists and cocky smirk, was bad enough. Mike, with his inked-up face and criminal air, took the infamy to another level entirely. Why the pair had chosen to settle in such an otherwise unremarkable neighbourhood was anyone’s guess, but their presence was enough to unsettle even the boldest of residents.

Alice was not one of the bold ones. But she was determined.

Taking a deep, shaky breath, she forced her feet to move. Her knees wobbled slightly as she stepped onto the pavement, her eyes darting to the driveway. The last time she’d walked past this house, it had been littered with junk—rusting bikes, broken appliances, and a mountain of faded paint cans. Now it was eerily clean, as if someone had been expecting company.

‘Maybe he won’t be in,’ she thought with a flicker of hope, even as the low thrum of bass-heavy music trickled through the air. The faint vibrations matched the rhythm of her heart, and she silently prayed that Adam’s notoriously loud sound system would drown out the doorbell. But as she pressed the small white button, the music cut off almost immediately.

Alice barely had time to register this before the door swung open.

Adam Hargreaves filled the doorway, tall and broad-shouldered, his sharp jawline set in a look of disdain that seemed permanently etched into his features. His piercing blue eyes raked over her, his expression morphing from irritation to mild amusement as he leaned lazily against the doorframe.

“What do you want?” he asked, his tone dripping with contempt.

Alice’s throat went dry. She tried to speak but only managed a squeak. Clearing her throat, she finally stammered, “I—I can… erm… can I talk to you? Please?”

His lip curled into a smirk, and he let out a short, cruel laugh. “Really? First, he sends his mum to shout at me, and now you?”

“What?” Alice blinked, genuinely confused. This was news to her. Mum hadn’t mentioned confronting Adam, but it suddenly made sense why Jamie had been so upset. Her brother’s angry words from two nights ago echoed in her mind: “You made it ten times worse!”

Raising her hands in a gesture of surrender, Alice tried to regain control of the conversation. “I’m not here to start anything, not that I could hurt you even if I wanted to,” she said with an awkward laugh, hoping humor might diffuse the tension.

Adam raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed.

The truth was, if she were proficient in any combat sport, she would have gladly punched Adam’s smirk off his face. But her three half-hearted karate lessons weren’t going to cut it. She’d dropped out as soon as the warm-up drills started feeling like actual exercise. The idea of fighting Adam, who was a full head taller than her brother and built like he lived at the gym, was laughable. Still, fantasies of flattening him helped steel her resolve.

“Please?” she said again, softening her tone.

Adam’s gaze lingered on her, his eyes dipping briefly to her chest. She was suddenly very aware of the push-up bra and tight top she’d chosen that morning, a combination she’d hoped might make her appear more confident—or at least distracting enough to stop him from slamming the door in her face. It wasn’t a tactic she was proud of, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

With a loud, exaggerated sigh, Adam stepped back and jerked his head toward the interior of the house. “Fine. Get in.”

The hallway smelled faintly of damp, cigarettes, and something else Alice couldn’t quite place. She wrinkled her nose but said nothing, her eyes scanning the space. The once-neutral wallpaper was streaked with grime, and discarded trainers cluttered the base of the stairs. A Staffie appeared from nowhere, its tail wagging furiously as it jumped up to greet her.

“Roxy, down!” Adam barked. The dog immediately dropped to the floor, letting out a pitiful whine as it scampered off. Alice gave the retreating dog a sympathetic look before following Adam into the kitchen.

The mess was overwhelming. Dishes were stacked precariously high in the sink, a basket of unwashed laundry sat on the floor next to an overflowing bin, and every surface seemed to be coated in a thin layer of grease. Only the kitchen table was clear, save for a set of scales and a few tiny green crumbs that Alice pretended not to notice.

Adam slumped into a chair and cracked open a can of Diet Pepsi without offering her a drink—or even a seat. Taking the initiative, Alice pulled out a chair opposite him, her hands fidgeting nervously in her lap.

“So?” Adam said, his tone impatient.

Alice swallowed hard. “I wanted to ask you to stop picking on my brother.”

Adam let out a short laugh, his expression one of utter incredulity. “Yeah? And what makes you think I’d do that?”

“Because—” Alice began, launching into the speech she’d rehearsed all morning. “I don’t think you realize how much pain you’re causing. If you could see how upset he is, how much this is affecting him, maybe you’d—”

“Oh, I don’t realize?” Adam interrupted, his smirk widening. “So I’m not just, what was it, an insecure prick with ‘small dick energy’ who has to tear people down to make myself feel better?”

Alice’s heart sank as he pulled out his phone and began scrolling. Her stomach dropped when he read aloud from a post she’d written days earlier, venting her anger after finding Jamie sobbing in the bathroom.

“How did you…?” Alice trailed off, horrified.

“Your account isn’t private, genius,” Adam said with a shrug. “And you’re hot, so yeah, I follow you.”

‘He thinks I’m hot?’ Alice thought, startled, before mentally slapping herself. Now wasn’t the time to be distracted.

Before she could respond, Mike sauntered into the room, his tattoos and missing teeth making him look like he’d stepped straight out of a crime drama. The older Hargreaves brother gave Alice a sharp, suspicious look before turning to Adam.

“You sort that thing with Dave?” he asked.

Alice sat frozen, trying not to draw attention to herself. Mike’s aura was undeniably intimidating, and her instincts screamed at her to leave. But she couldn’t—not yet.