Dashiell Blackthorne's face contorted with pain as I increased the pressure on his trapped fist. Fear replaced the arrogance in his eyes as he realized his complete powerlessness.
"Let go of me!" he snarled, trying to mask his terror with rage.
I tightened my grip further, feeling the bones in his hand begin to shift under the pressure. "I asked you a question, Blackthorne. Isn't it my turn now?"
A palpable tension fell over the crowd as they witnessed the unthinkable—a nobody holding a Blackthorne scion at his mercy. Behind Dashiell, I noticed movement as another figure pushed through the stunned onlookers.
"Release my brother at once!" The newcomer's voice rang with authority.
I recognized him instantly—Melvin Blackthorne, Dashiell's older brother and a far more dangerous opponent. Unlike his younger sibling, Melvin had the cold, calculating eyes of someone who had actually killed before.
