“You can’t just threaten us,” spat Brooke, seated at the table with the boy who’d tripped me. The guy let go of his target, slowly turning to Brooke. “Are you going to stop me, Brooke?” he asked in an eerily quiet voice. “Maybe ask your daddy, the politician, to go after me? Or maybe James here, whose dad sits in front of a news camera every night at six. Maybe he’ll have his daddy report me on the news? The thing is, Brooke, I don’t give a s**t about that stuff. I don’t care who your parents are or what they do for a living, but I do know that I’ve always come out of a fight on top. So, if you want to take it outside and settle things the traditional way, I’m more than happy. Otherwise, leave. Her. The. f**k. Alone.” Not waiting for a response, he ushered me toward the table where I norma
