THE BOY WHO COULD BEAR AN HEIR
He had been waiting for the right time to speak, and now he took the chance.
“Boss,” Day’s voice was low, respectful, “what should we do with Gerard? Should we kill him?”
The question hung in the air.
Zayn opened his eyes, the cigar burning slowly between his fingers. His dark gaze shifted to Day, but there was no rush in his reply. He inhaled the smoke once again, letting the taste sit heavy on his tongue before he dropped the ashes into the tray beside him.
“Kill him?” Zayn’s lips curved slightly, but there was no humor in it. “That’s too easy, Day. Too merciful.”
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