RIVAL’S POV
Vega didn’t waste time. The second we dropped the first roll of cash on his counter, he handed over the next address like we were delivery drivers with no choice in our route.
Thomas took it without even looking at me. Big mistake.
“You’re up,” I said, already grinning.
His head snapped around. “Wait—what, c'mon but I said you can have the week, pretty please?”
“Your turn. We’re alternating, remember?”
“I don’t recall agreeing to—”
“You laughed at me back there,” I cut in. “Rules of the street: you laugh, you fight.”
He opened his mouth to argue, but Vega was watching us, smirking like he’d just been handed front-row seats to a brawl. Thomas sighed through his teeth and shoved the address in his pocket.
“Fine. But if this guy’s some ex-boxer, I’m blaming you.”
The add
