My father sat calmly in my tiny apartment like he owned the place, and honestly, Vincent Calloway probably believed he did?
The lamp beside the couch cast soft light across his expensive suit while rain tapped steadily against the broken window I still had not replaced and the contrast between him and my shitty apartment felt almost laughable.
Mob king in a rundown studio. Very cinematic. I stayed near the door with my hand still close to the gun beneath my jacket.
“You break into all your daughter’s apartments or am I getting special treatment?” I asked flatly.
“You always did have attitude.” Vincent said as his mouth twitched slightly.
“You always did ignore boundaries.” I said.
Two armed men stood near the kitchen watching silently while my father leaned back in the chair like
