OOPS! I SENT IT TO MY BAD BOY STEPBROTHER !
“My money.”
The sound of boots buried on the ramp collides with the ringing in my ears and my red, bloody vision.
He starts clapping slowly, that familiar, pitchy, slowed, man’s find chuckle from him felt like someone took an iron sponge, then scraped my wounds with it.
I clutched my knees, trying my hardest not to look at him. If I did, it would make this too real….
“Good job, old friend. The money should hit your account by now… check.” From