Brandon's command hung in the air like a thundercloud. I watched as Morales hesitated, clearly uncomfortable with the escalation.
"Sir, are you certain?" Morales asked, his voice low. "The Ashworth name carries significant—"
"I don't care!" Brandon snapped, his face still red where I'd struck him. "Uncle Ivan runs this island, and he doesn't bow to anyone—not even the Ashworths!"
At the mention of that name, Morales's expression hardened. He gave a curt nod to his men.
"The boss's nephew invoked Uncle Ivan's name," he said grimly. "We proceed as ordered."
The men moved with practiced precision, surrounding our table completely. I shifted my stance, preparing for combat. My fingers tingled with gathering energy as I assessed our options. Five men, plus Morales and Brandon. Tight quarters. Civilians present.
Michael must have sensed my intentions because his hand suddenly gripped my wrist with surprising strength.
"Don't," he whispered.
I glanced at him, confused. "Sir, I can—"
