At first, he appeared as though he would ignore the gesture, but then my father rumbled, “Gerome, be nice to your little brother.”
After a quick glance at my father, Gerome bent low to accept the gift, but did so with a withering glare. “You don’t belong here,” he whispered. “We might have the same father, but you are no brother of mine.”
My eyes snapped open. “None of that was real!” I roared.
“Oh,” the other man purred. “Did I find a tender memory?”
“It wasn’t real! You just made it up!”
“Perhaps I’ll have to recover another for you.”
“Your tricks won’t work on me anymore! I know what’s going on here!”
The man’s eyes narrowed. “And just what do you think you know?”
“You’re Gerfar Balts. Wanted by a dozen corporations for working as a rogue assassin for a half dozen others. And no
