Dante’s POV
Lucas was tense. His fingers curled into fists on his lap, his gaze shifting between me and the gun on the table. I leaned back in my chair, exuding the kind of calm that should terrify a man in his position.
“We can do this the easy way or the hard way,” I said smoothly, my fingers tapping against the wooden surface. “Your choice.”
He swallowed hard. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
I smiled. “Wrong answer.”
Reaching for the gun, I let my fingers wrap around the grip, lifting it just enough to make my point. I didn’t have to aim it. Just the weight of it in my hand was enough to drain the color from his face.
Lucas had been with me for five years. I had taken him in when he had nothing, after his parents died and the world turned its back on him. I fed him, clot
