“ENOUGH!” my father bellows.
“Tell them!” Silas snarls as I hear the sound of a fist meeting flesh. “Tell them what you did, you sick perverted f**k!”
I glance up just as my father signals for his men to intervene. They put their guns away, pull Silas off Castor and help Castor to his feet, but he’s quick to shake them off. He glares daggers at Silas, spitting a wad of blood at Silas’s feet. The amount of contempt and disgust in the action has me now wanting to go and throw in a few punches myself.
“Someone better tell me what the f**k is going on right this minute,” my father orders, his posture tall and imposing, his voice full of authority and his eyes burning with anger and curiosity.
“This is the son of a b***h who shot Dasha in Russia,” Castor spits out, all eyes now turning on m
