When Ace Kane was in his office quietly plotting how to deal with Zachary Hawke, the man himself was in another part of the city, lounging comfortably with his son Colin Hawke, basking in his own arrogance.
“Relax,” Zachary Hawke said, his tone dripping with the certainty of someone who had lived too long believing he was untouchable. “Ace Kane is nothing but an inexperienced kid—soft, naïve, and clueless about how the real game works. Handling him won’t even take effort.”
He thumped his chest with a confidence that bordered on theatrical.
“That Audi TT of yours? I’ll get it back for you, easily. No one messes with something that belongs to the Hawke family. If he dared trash something of ours, then he’ll cough it back out in the exact condition he found it—or worse.”
His voice echoed
