RIVAL’S POV
The morning started the same: fists, blood, and money.
Another debtor, another i***t who thought Vega’s name didn’t mean anything anymore. His apartment reeked of old food and fear. The second I kicked his chair out from under him, he folded. Spilled excuses, promises, even tried offering up his watch like it meant something.
I broke two of his fingers before he coughed up the cash.
Thomas flinched at every c***k.
“Jesus, Rival…” he muttered as I stuffed the roll into my jacket.
I shrugged. “He’ll remember better this way.”
On the walk back, he couldn’t stop staring at my hands. “You keep that up, and you’re gonna run out of knuckles to use.”
I grinned, showing teeth. “Then I’ll use elbows.”
He groaned, dragging a hand through his hair like maybe it’d erase me. But whe
