I tilted mine to the side. “We’re the rough-and-tumble type of people. You want to fight? We’ll throw down. It’s where we came from. It’s what Roussou is like. Want to know a bit more about us? There’s a whole documentary about us out there ready to stream. If you’re looking to scare us, it’s the opposite effect. We’re just different. We’re not going to react how you think. Like, take me, for example. I stabbed a teacher.”

Zellman coughed, covering up an abrupt laugh.

Cross was just watching me carefully.

I kept on, my tone all casual, “I did my time, got counseling. I’m better, but then again…maybe I’m not. I could slip back. I probably will. I mean, there’s my dad, too. He’s now a member of a motorcycle club, and yeah, it’s one of those that you should be scared of.”

The two guys edged back a step, looking way more cautious toward me now.

Me, I gave them a smile, almost upbeat. “And not to mention the whole reason he went to jail. For murder. He killed someone before I could finish him off. So my dad did my time for me.”

...my dad did my time for me.

My own voice was echoing in my head.

I was hearing myself, but hearing it at a distance, like I wasn’t connected to myself.

I kept on, but I was also reeling. “So there’s that, too. To summarize things up nice and tidy, you’re not going to get the normal reaction from us that I’m thinking you’re hoping to get. We,” I motioned to all three of us, “are not scared of you guys, or your house, or really anything.”

Here was the part that I was tired of: the talking, the words, the threats. These guys came over to intimidate us. We intimidated them instead, or at least I did because they edged back another step, looking at me like I was that wild animal I used to be. And I did used to be that person.

But I wasn’t anymore.

Jesus.

I was in my head now, and what was I even going on about?

I was suddenly over this whole conversation, this entire situation.

Fuck. I was growing again.

How’d that happen?

Cross sighed. “Get lost, guys. If Harper sent you here to test us, tell him we’re quaking in our boots. He’ll like that. It’ll make him feel better.”

At his words, their entire demeanor changed. They looked relieved, their shoulders relaxed, and one nodded. He nudged the other with his elbow, and both turned away. They were leaving at the same time Blaise joined us, still sweaty from the game, but he’d pulled some soccer pants and a dry shirt on. He scowled at the guys, watching them leave.

“What’d they want?”