Royce stared at the papers, his face draining of color as he saw his own bank accounts, illegal properties, and wire transfers fully detailed.
“Your nephew, Dustin, is going to prison for domestic abuse and felony assault,” Julian continued, his tone ice-cold. “And if you, your crew, or anyone associated with your name ever comes within five miles of my wife, my daughter, or my home… this entire file gets handed directly to a grand jury before sunset.”
Royce swallowed hard, looking into Julian’s eyes—eyes that carried the silent, lethal promise of a veteran who had survived three combat tours.
“The complaint against you is dropped,” Royce whispered, his voice trembling. “Dustin is on his own.”
“Good choice,” Julian said softly.
He stood up, adjusted his cuffs, and walked out into the cool night air.
Two weeks later, the sun was shining over the quiet backyard of the Vance home.
