Lucian leans against a secluded corner in the mall, cigarette in hand as he engages in a tense phone conversation. “Listen, Elias…”
“Tyger. Call me Tyger!” Elias interjects, his voice insistent over the line.
Lucian emits a disdainful snort, the tendrils of smoke swirling from his nostrils like an angry bull, before retorting, “I’ll call you whatever I damn well please, Eli. You’ve yet to prove whether you’ve earned stripes worthy of being called a Tiger. Just like now, you’re unbelievably asking me how to explain yourself for the death of your fellow thugs yesterday. Are you dim-witted, or did I make a grave error in choosing you?”
There’s a weary sigh from Elias on the other end of the line. “I despise feeling this way. Like I’m concealing something… like I’m the mold in the bread. Ma
