Cesare’s Point of View
“I won’t repeat myself again, Charles,” I said, leaning back in the chair. My voice was calm, almost casual.
Calm was always scarier than shouting. Calm meant danger was inevitable.
I cracked my knuckles slowly, letting the sound fill the small room. “Instead, you’ll be speaking to my fist.”
Charles’s entire body trembled. His wet hair plastered to his forehead from the iced water I’d dumped earlier.
His lips quivered, and his eyes darted around the room like a trapped rat searching for an escape.
“P-please… I don’t—I can’t—”
I tilted my head slightly, watching him, a slow smirk spreading across my face. The bastard thought he had options.
How dare he.
Before he could even finish his plea, I slammed my fist into his jaw.
The impact was satisfying, the cr
