Chapter 37
Rhett’s POV
The sun hadn’t fully climbed the horizon, and yet Dominic had dragged me into his den like I’d never left it.
I sat at the long oak table in the west chamber, men crowded every corner, the air tainted with the metallic tang of guns laid out like silverware. My father stood at the head of the table, his presence commanding, and his voice dripping with arrogance as he gestured toward what was stacked against the walls.
“These,” he said, knocking ash from his cigar, “are the future. Precision, power, and reputation. Every one of them hand-crafted, imported, and worth more than your lives combined. Pay attention, Rhett. This is your inheritance.”
But I wasn’t listening. Not really.
I sat stiff, my arms folded, my eyes locked on him. The sound of his voice made ever
