Monty crouches next to me, grabbing a fistful of my shirt and yanking me up. His breath stinks of whiskey and smoke, and his eyes burn with an anger that's been simmering too long. My head spins, and for a moment, I see Nora's face instead—the way she looked at me this morning, worry creasing her forehead as she traced the dark circles under my eyes.

"You think he cares about this being a message?" I rasp, my voice barely audible through the pain. "This is exactly what he wanted. Scott never gets his hands dirty. He leaves that to scum like you."

Monty's expression darkens, and his fist crashes into my jaw. Stars explode behind my eyes, and I taste more blood as my cheek hits gravel. The world tilts dangerously, but I stay conscious—barely. Monty grabs me again, hauling me up like a rag doll. My legs dangle uselessly, my body too wrecked to resist.

His sneer is inches from my face, his voice low and lethal. "One way or another, he's going to get a message." His grip tightens, fingers digging into bruised flesh. "And you're going to deliver it. You get me my money, or I'll take away everything."

His eyes glint with malicious understanding. "Come to think of it, maybe I went after the wrong son. Maybe your kid brother should be next." He leans in closer, bourbon-soaked breath hot against my face. "Or maybe I just go straight for that pretty little brunette with the nice legs you've been spending time with. She looks like she'd be a fun time."

Something inside me—something I didn't even know existed—snaps.

A surge of protective fury burns through me, stronger than the pain, stronger than fear. Despite the agony shooting through my battered body, I force myself to lift my head. My voice comes out low and deadly, each word carved from ice and steel.

"You go anywhere near my brother or dare to fucking touch her," I say, "and I'll kill you myself."

It's not a threat—it's a promise.

Monty's grin widens, cruel and amused. "Struck a nerve, huh? Rule number one, kid: don't fall for tits and an ass. They'll get you killed. And family doesn't mean shit. They're only good for stabbing you in the back anyway. But I think you've learned that lesson by now."

He shoves me back down, letting me crumple to the gravel. His crew laughs as they mount their bikes, the roar of their engines slicing through the night like thunder. The sound of their departure echoes off the buildings, matching the pounding in my head.

I lie there, bloodied and broken, staring up at the stars. They seem too peaceful, too distant from this hell. My chest burns with each breath, every inhale a sharp reminder of my fractured ribs.

Monty knows about Nora now.