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“Why would I—”

“We’ll get you help. Sera and I, we understand. It’s a disorder, psychological.”

Help for what? What is he even talking about? Disorder? Me?

He’s not trying to… Is he trying to pin this shit on me? Like it’s my fault we’re all tied up in this foyer right now?

“What the fuck are you doing?” I ask the man that looks and sounds like my dad but clearly fucking isn’t. Graham Pierson would never do this to his own son.

Would he?

He’s done some other shady shit, sure, but this? This is…inconceivable.

“I’m trying to help you.”

I jab both thumbs into my sternum. “Me?”

He lifts his eyebrows. “Yes.”

“You’re out of your fucking mind.”

“Would you two shut the fuck up and just tell us where the money is.”

“What money?” I shout.

“The seven hundred—”

“I know!”

Enzo looks put out. “Well, you asked.”

My head’s just shaking. I mean, fuck. What the fuck is this fucking clusterfuck of dumb fucking fucks?

There’s one thing I do know…

“Let the girls go. This shit has nothing to do with them.”

“Doesn’t it?”

I round on the asshole who went to my fight, the scout of the group.

“Who are you?” I ask him.

“That’s not important. What’s important is—”

“What’s important is nobody gets hurt that doesn’t need to get hurt. These two women don’t need to get hurt. Whatever the fuck is going on here, it doesn’t involve them. They’re innocent. Let them go.”

“We can’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“They serve as motivation.”

“Jesus Christ. You’re dumber than you look.”

It takes a second for the insult to register, but once it does, he sneers, making himself look even dumber. I’ve never seen a face I wanted to dropkick more.

“The only motivation you’re giving me by keeping them here is to rearrange your dumb fucking face.”