A piercing ache sliced through Grey's chest.
"You alright?" Grace whispered, nestled against him, picking up on his sudden tension.
"It's... fine," Grey muttered, his mouth parched as he managed a wobbly smile.
Evelin couldn't have meant those words, he told himself. His brain had to be playing tricks.
The gunshots—sharp, thunderous cracks—ceased as abruptly as they'd begun. Hamilton security swarmed the restaurant, surrounding the middle-aged shooter.
His weapon stayed trained on Jimmy.
The atmosphere crackled with danger, the confrontation poised to detonate.
"Jimmy Hamilton... your goddamn family destroyed my buddy!" the gunman growled, venom lacing every word. "Lost his house, his whole life. Time to settle up!"
"Really?" Jimmy's chiseled features remained stone-cold, even staring down the barrel. He moved closer, ice-calm and controlled. "Half the city wants me six feet under. Think you're special enough to make it happen?"
