Page 128 of Always: A Legacy Novel

The man repeated the process over and over.

Again and again.

The sound seemed a little too loud for Cross, but he kept watching that gun, and those bullets. His years of mentoring under Wolf put him in that mindset every time a gun was brought out, and he was close enough to see it.

“Eyes on the table” didn’t just mean for him to keep his eyes on the table. It wasn’t always so literal. It meant he needed to keep an eye on anything that might move, threaten, or steal.

Simple as that.

The office door opened a few minutes later, making Cross jump in his seat. He found all of a sudden that he wasn’t the least bit surprised to see Catherine’s father walk in.

Dante moved across the room, grabbed the only other metal chair in the corner, and set it in front of Cross. Unlike his chair, Dante’s was turned around so the man could straddle it and set his arms over the back.

For a long while, Dante only sat there and stared at Cross.

Then, very quietly, he said, “Explain yourself.”

Cross cocked a brow. “Be specific.”

Dante’s jaw tightened in his irritation, and his green eyes flashed with an unspoken warning. “You have very little respect for better men, Cross. Let me explain this to you, so that you understand from here on out. When a better man demands something in this life, you jump through fire to give him what he wants.”

“Define better,” Cross said.

That was a bad idea.

He knew it was a bad idea.

He was just too arrogant for his own good.

Dante dropped a hand from the chair and put his palm up at his side. “Lucian.”

That goddamn gun was handed over wordlessly. Dante replaced his arm, now with a gun in hand, onto the back of the chair. He held it just so, making sure that Cross was forced to stare straight down the barrel, even if the weapon was tilted a bit to the side.

“One more time,” Dante said. “Explain.”

“Again, be specific.”

“Calisto should genuinely worry for your life, Cross. You’re too rude, too insolent, and that’ll never make a good made man.”

“But it will make a dead one,” Lucian said quietly from the desk.

Calisto cleared his throat from his position against the wall, but no one seemed to pay him any mind.

Cross didn’t take his gaze off the gun, or Dante right behind it. “If you want me to explain what happened on Friday, I don’t think I need to. The school made a nice little slideshow with videos and all, Dante.”

“Don,” Dante corrected coldly, “or boss.”

“Not mine,” Cross replied.

“Cross,” Calisto warned.

He was supposed to keep quiet.

Or do what he was told.

Clearly, he was messing that up, too.

“No,” Dante said, leaning forward just enough to tilt the gun straight, “I want you to explain to me what you would say to ever justify putting my daughter in the kind of position you did. You see, you’re selfish, Cross, like most boys your age. I expect that, to an extent, but what I demand will always be respect. Especially for my daughter.”