He snorts.
Still playing it cool.
Still pretending he’s untouchable.
“How exactly did I interfere?” he asks, like this is all a game to him.
“Threatening my clients,” I fire back. “Leaning on them. Sending your little pets to do your dirty work.”
There it is.
That flicker.
Gone quick.
But I saw it.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says, too smooth.
“Bullshit.”
The word cracks between us like a shot fired.
“You think I don’t know about the Hellbound Heathens?” I press, stepping closer, voice rising now. “About Josh Cunnings running his mouth and taking orders?”
Right on cue—the man himself steps forward.
Josh.
That smug, rat-faced prick.
Smirking and swaggering like he’s got something to prove.
“You got a lot of nerve, boy,” he sneers.
I turn my head just enough to look at him.
Slow.
Deliberate.
I smile.
But there’s no humor in it.
“Yeah,” I say quietly. “I get that a lot.”
I turn back to Ace. Josh takes a step closer, but I track it.
And I don’t take my eyes off my father.
“You’re done,” I tell him. “Your days of controlling anything in my life are over.”
He laughs.
Actually laughs.
“Is that right?” he says. “You think you’ve built something out there that I can’t touch?”
