Whoever had picked up didn't speak, perhaps wondering who was calling from an unfamiliar number.
Ross didn't let the pause last long.
His voice was calm, deliberate, yet edged with enough steel to make even the bystanders shift uncomfortably.
"Don Carlo, this is Ross Oakley," he began, every syllable rolling off his tongue like the opening move of a chess master.
"I have your son here, blocking my way and making trouble. I want a final fix to this problem. If I'm not satisfied with the ending, then I'll have to visit your house in person. I know we haven't had the pleasure of meeting, so I'm looking forward to your failure."
The street seemed to shrink around them as the words hung in the cold night air.
Even Kenny's cocky grin faltered just a little, though he tried to cover it up with a scoff.
The men standing behind him exchanged nervous glances, as if suddenly aware they were standing in the wrong place at the wrong time.
