“Youfind the asshole who thought they could steal from me,” he says calmly. Too calmly. “And you bring me proof they won’t do it again. I want their severed hands.”
He takes a slow sip, smoke curling around his head like a crown.
“You have seventy-two hours.”
I nod once. No argument. No hesitation.
Jaxon and I turn toward the door, already done with this conversation, when my father’s voice cuts through the room again.
“Khai. Stay.”
I stop immediately.
I give Jaxon a subtle nod to keep moving. He hesitates just long enough to let me know he doesn’t like this, then disappears down the corridor.
I turn back.
My father studies me in silence, his expression unreadable, eyes sharp and assessing. Then his mouth curves, not into a smile, but something uglier.
“You know,” he says conversationally, taking another drag of his cigarette, “it’s interesting what people choose to hide.”
My pulse slows. Dangerous.
“I don’t know who you think you’re protecting,” he continues, exhaling smoke. “But secrets have a way of making themselves visible.”
I say nothing.
He leans back against the desk, eyes never leaving mine. “If you fail to fix this problem,” he says lightly, “I’ll start looking for leverage of my own.”
The words settle heavy in the air.
“That pretty little thing you’ve been so careful with,” he adds, voice almost amused. “She might just become… educational.”
The room goes cold.
I feel it immediately, the blood draining from my hands, a tremor threatening at the edges of my control. Rage flares sharp and blinding, but I bury it where he can’t see it.
I don’t respond.
I don’t trust myself to.
Instead, I turn and walk out of the office without another word, my steps steady, my expression blank.
Because if I give him even a fraction of what I’m feeling,
He’ll know.
And I won’t give him that satisfaction.
Not when the only thing standing between her and his attention
is how fast I can end this.
Jaxon is waiting outside, leaning against his bike, smoke curling lazily from between his fingers like he has all the time in the world.
I reach my own bike and my phone vibrates again.
I don’t need to see the name to know who it’s from.
