Page 28 of After the Chase

He turns as I enter, extending his hand. "Noah Bryson. You look like your old man."

"I can’t remember what he looked like." I say as I shake his hand. His grip is firm, and trying to dominate, which is a joke as nothing intimidates me. If anything, I’m already bored.

"Drink?" he asks, gesturing to the bar.

"No, I just want to get to the facts so I can leave."

His eyebrows raise to my response.

“Hey, don’t hold back there on what you really feel,” he says as he chuckles. I’m not sure what’s funny.

We sit in chairs facing each other, the city glittering behind him.

"I appreciate you meeting me here," Marcus says. "Ethan, the owner of this establishment, is a friend, no prying eyes."

"Uh-huh." If he insists on small talk, I’m fucking leaving.

"Okay, you’re impatient. No chit chat. So, your father was a good man, Noah. Smart. Careful. He understood what we were building and believed in it."

"That’s a lie and not a good start. He was not a good man, and neither am I or you."

"True. Apologies. Anyway, we have a network of street-level operations that can move through neighborhoods the real worldcan’t access. Your father provided funding and connections. In exchange, we provided muscle, intelligence, protection when needed. When he passed, your mother continued to fund us but pulled away from any involvement. She just cashed in monthly and let us do our thing."

"And now you want me to continue that arrangement."

"We want to know if you're interested in continuing your father's legacy. The funding he provided kept us operational. Without it, we'd need to find other revenue streams. Some of which might not align with the interests of people you care about."

It's a veiled threat, and I recognize it immediately.

"You're suggesting that if I don't continue funding, you'll become a problem?"

"I'm suggesting that partnerships work best when both parties benefit. Your parents understood that. They saw value in what we offered."

"I'm not obligated to honor them."

"No, you're not." Marcus says as he leans back in his chair. "But you inherited more than just money, Noah. You inherited relationships. Your surname carries weight in certain circles. People know the Bryson family supported us. Now you are the heir, and if you walk away, it sends a message."

I want to roll my eyes and walk out. This dumb shit has no idea who I am either.

“I think you mistake me for my parents. I don’t give a shit who you or anyone else think they are. I kill people for just looking at me wrong, your life and anyone else’s means fuck all to me. I live in the shadows, Marcus. You threaten me and before you know it your whole life with those you care about burn. Just like my dear old daddy.”

That remark makes him still and the look on his face changes. He knows what I mean.

“You killed your old man?”

I shrug and sit back in my chair and rest my hands behind my head, revelling in the power exchange. Another big mouth thinking he calls the shots.

“You sit here and tell me I have to fall in line, when in fact, I’m the one with the money and power who could destroy you overnight. So, let’s start this conversation again and talk about what you can do for me if I choose to help you?”

“Fuck me…you really are different from him. It takes some balls to walk in here and speak to me like this.”

“It’s a genetic problem. I’ve been diagnosed as a psycho, apparently it’s a thing.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes, Marcus. That is so.”

We stare at one another and I watch his reactions, not missing the flare of his nostrils and the clenching of his fist. This meeting is over.