Chapter 40 Composing The Next Strike

• ROBERTO
• The room was dark, lit only by the faint glow of streetlights spilling through the blinds. Marcos drove his fist into the wall, the dull crunch of drywall giving way beneath his knuckles. His jaw locked tight. His eyes caught the light, sharp and predatory.
• "That fucking bitch has ruined everything! Your worthless bastard of a daughter chose that Kincade prick over the family, and now look where we are. I should've killed her."