The sound of a chair crashing against the wall echoed through Garrett's study. Papers were everywhere in the room, scattered.
A lamp was smashed into fragments and the bottle of in had spilled, with the ink across the table.
Vanessa stood stiffly by the window, arms folded tightly, watching her father pace like a storm bottled in a cage.
"I just knew it that you would not do a good job," she finally said, breaking through the tension in the room. "You have never been good at doing, anything, Miles. Anything!" She ranted, biting her nails.
Miles knelt on the floor with dried blood at the corner of his mouth, and a fresh bruise blooming beneath his right eye.
"You useless dog!" Garrett barked, slamming his fist into the desk. "How many men did you say were present again?" He said, still
