Liam was chewing slowly, silently counting down in his head how many more bites it would take to finish his plate and get the hell out of this dump. But peace was never a luxury he could afford.
One of the men stood up.
He was tall, covered in tattoos, muscles stretched across his arms like he spent more time lifting barrels than bathing. He walked over with a swagger that screamed arrogance, then stopped beside Liam, towering over him with that familiar street-born smirk.
Then he said just one word—cold and challenging.
"Scram."
Liam slowly raised his eyes from his plate. His jaw twitched. His fingers curled slightly. But instead of reacting, he closed his eyes for about five full seconds.
One… two… three…
Don't cause problems, he told himself.
Four… five…
He let out a slow breath and didn't reply.
Lilith's eyes narrowed. Her lip curled slightly.
She was disappointed. Deeply.
