Outside the entrance of the Afterdark Ballroom, the humid night air was thick with the scent of street food and expensive exhaust. A crowd of revelers surged toward the doors, but a distinct group stood apart near a parked black SUV.
Ransom stood at the center of the pack, his fingers absentmindedly tracing the jagged, pale scar that ran like a lightning bolt across his cheek. He exhaled a thick cloud of acrid cigarette smoke, his eyes narrowing as he watched the neon lights flicker.
"Keep your eyes peeled, boys," he growled, pulling a folded photograph from his leather jacket and showing it to the men surrounding him. It was a surveillance shot of Allen Morgan. "This kid managed to royally offend the second head of the the Martin family. Tonight, we’re making an example out of him. Fift
