"What do you think you’re doing, you pathetic loser?"
Thomas Thorne’s voice, though strained and trembling from the crushing weight of Knox’s grip, still managed to carry that particular brand of arrogance unique to a man who had never faced a real consequence in his entire life. He stared at the surgical utility knife in Shane Cross’s hand, yet his brain refused to register the danger. To a man like Thomas, Shane was a permanent fixture of low status—a Grunt who had spent five years polishing boots and changing oil. In his twisted logic, even a weapon in the hands of a "nobody" was merely a prop for a bluff.
"If you so much as scratch me, the Thorne family will bury you alive," Thomas sneered, his spit flecked with blood from his shattered teeth. "Be smart for once in your miserable lif
