The whole office was filled with the cold, metallic stench of blood. He had gone back to the way he was when he was first carving out his territory—bloodthirsty and feral, reckless, his methods so brutally violent they struck terror into his opponents.
But there was absolutely no need to make this matter so vicious. Had a few years of staying away from bloodshed made him soft? Julian Carter's expression hardened, a faint killing intent slowly rising. Benjamin Lopez had been biding his time for so many years all for this day; he'd probably already gathered a lot of evidence against the Hughes Clan. But in this kind of battle, what you played with was your heartbeat—whoever was more ruthless, whoever had the stronger heart, would be the one to win.
