A deep, rolling laugh burst from Robert “Bobby” Kane, echoing across the courtyard like thunder cracking open the sky.
“Hahahaha… fascinating.”
He looked at Issac Monroe the way a king might look at a bold insect—amused, entertained, but utterly condescending.
“It’s been years since a young man dared speak to me like that.”
His smile sharpened as he lifted his chin.
“Very well. I’ll grant you this chance. Tomorrow, at my son’s funeral, I’ll be waiting.”
His eyes gleamed with cruel anticipation—the kind of malicious excitement only a predator felt when a prey offered itself voluntarily.
To him, Issac wasn’t a threat.
He was a lamb that had walked into a tiger’s den and demanded a fight.
A joke.
A curiosity.
A spectacle.
In truth, Robert Kane had long been irritated by whispers a
