Page 42 of Sin Bin Bully

Nathan tries to look tough, but I can see the fear in his eyes. "You can't tell me what to do, man. This is family business."

I tighten my grip, feeling a sick satisfaction as he squirms. "Your sister's under my protection now. That makes this my business."

He fights against me. "The fuck do you mean Kim's with you?" He narrows his eyes. "She run to you, trying to spin some bullshit? Don't let her lie to you. She's in this, too."

The acrid stench of his breath mingles with the sour odor of stale beer and sweat. My voice drops to a low, menacing growl.

"Listen up, you little shit. This isn't a game anymore. You're playing with fire, and I'm about to become your worst fucking nightmare."

Nathan's eyes dart around, searching for an escape. I slam him against the wall again, relishing the dull thud of his skull connecting with the plaster.

"Eyes on me, asshole. I want you to understand exactly what's gonna happen if you don't get your act together."

I lean in close, my lips nearly touching his ear. "I've got more money than you can even imagine. One word from me, and you'll disappear. No one will even notice you're gone. Your precious 'empire'? It'll crumble faster than you can say 'plea bargain'."

Nathan's Adam's apple bobs as he swallows hard. "You can't-"

"I can, and I will," I cut him off. "But here's the thing. I'm giving you one chance. One. Get the fuck out of Kim's place, and stay the fuck away from her. Or I'll make sure you spend the rest of your miserable life in a cell so small you'll forget what it's like to stand up straight."

I release him with a shove, watching as he stumbles and nearly falls. The room is dead silent, all eyes on us.

"Five minutes," I remind him, my voice ice-cold. "Clock's ticking."

I turn on my heel, the crowd parting before me like the Red Sea. As I reach the door, I pause, glancing back over my shoulder. Nathan's still frozen in place, his face a mask of fear and anger.

"Oh, and Nathan? If I ever catch you using Kim's name to peddle your shit again, what I do to you will make prison look like a fucking day spa."

With that, I stride out of the apartment, the door slamming behind me with a satisfying bang. The hallway feels cooler, cleaner, and I take a deep breath, trying to calm the rage still coursing through my veins.

I make my way out of the building, my blood still boiling from the confrontation with Nathan. The cool air hits my face, a welcome respite from the stifling atmosphere inside. But as I reach the sidewalk, a familiar click-click-click stops me dead in my tracks.

"Fuck," I mutter under my breath.

They're everywhere. Like vultures circling a carcass, paparazzi swarm around me, their cameras flashing incessantly. The rapid-fire shutters sound like machine gun fire in the quiet street.

"Sam! Sam Warwick!" A particularly bold photographer shoves his lens in my face. "What were you doing in that building? Is this where you get your steroids?"

I clench my fists, resisting the urge to smash his camera. "No comment," I growl, pushing past him.

But they're relentless, crowding me from all sides. Their questions blend into a cacophony of accusations and innuendo.

"Is it true you're being investigated for drug use?"

"Are you here to threaten your dealer?"

"What about the rumors that an ice girl on your team is helping push drugs? Are you involved with her?"

That last one makes me pause for a split second. Shit. Nathan's bullshit has made the lies about Kim spread faster than I expected.

I quicken my pace, shouldering my way through the throng. My car's just a few yards away, but it feels like miles. The flashes are blinding now, each one searing into my retinas like a supernova.

Finally, I reach my vehicle. I yank the door open and throw myself inside, slamming it shut behind me. The sudden silence is deafening.

I peel away from the curb, leaving the paparazzi in my rearview mirror. But as I navigate the familiar streets towards home, my phone erupts into a frenzy of vibrations and rings.

By the time I pull into my driveway, it's like I've got a live grenade in my pocket. I fish out the device, grimacing at the screen. It's lit up like a Christmas tree, notifications popping up faster than I can process them.

Joe's name flashes repeatedly, interspersed with my lawyer and a slew of unknown numbers. Christ, it's like the whole world's trying to reach me at once.

---