The cool breeze of the Duskhaven City night did nothing to lower the temperature of Dominic Mylod’s gaze. He stood over the youth with the bleached perm, who was currently clutching the heavy leather cases of cash as if they were a life raft in a shark-infested ocean. The broken glass of the Porsche crunched under Dominic’s boots—a sound like grinding bone.
"You mentioned eighteen million dollars for the car and your 'trauma,'" Dominic said, his voice dropping into a terrifyingly calm register. "But we haven't settled the most important debt of the evening. You terrified my wife. You threatened her dignity. You looked at her with eyes that should have been put out long ago. How do we calculate the interest on that?"
The youth’s bravado had evaporated completely. "I... I told you! It was
