Page 46 of October
"Now go away," he said, each syllable soaked in contempt. "Before the floor cracks under the weight of your delusions."
Laura stiffened, but Joseph wasn't done.
"And you—" he turned his glare on me, razor-sharp—"Thomas. Get inside. Idiot. Let Jezebel slither back into whatever smoke-filled corner she came from. I need a word with you. Whether I use my tongue or my fist—we'll see in about thirty seconds."
"I'm calling security," Laura snapped, already reaching for the phone on the desk. "How the hell did he even get in here?"
"No!" I shouted, stepping forward. "Don't you dare. That's my father-in-law."
She paused, staring at me like I'd grown two heads. Then she laughed, a sharp, mocking sound that grated like broken glass.
"Oh, well," she smirked, arms folded. "The apple doesn't fall far from the tree, I see. You and your daughter have a flair for melodrama."
I winced. "Oh no."
Joseph slowly turned, pivoting like an old gunslinger about to draw. His voice dropped into a cold, amused snarl.
"Wow, black widow," Joseph sneered. "Still spinning webs of bullshit, or just feeding off the next carcass?"
Laura bristled. "Excuse me?"
"You're excused," he snapped. "Preferably through a window."
She opened her mouth, but Joseph just raised a hand, cutting her off with a glare that could've shattered glass.
"Go play villain somewhere else. The adults are talking now."
I watched her flounder, speechless for once, then storm out in a flurry of designer perfume and wounded pride. Joseph exhaled, then shot me a look like I was next.
"You," he barked, pointing at me. "Inside. Now. Before I start throwing chairs."
I opened the office door, trying to keep my face neutral.
"Come inside," I said to Joseph, stepping aside.Then I shut the door behind us. When I turned around, Joseph wasrightthere—two inches from my face. I stumbled back slightly, startled.
His voice was low and lethal. "The only reason I haven't killed you yet is because there are too many damn witnesses."
I blinked. "Joseph—"
He raised a hand, silencing me with a look that cut sharper than any words could.
"I could take you out on a fishing trip," he said, his voice almost conversational—eerily calm. "One of those remote, no-cell-signal, 'just the boys' kind. Pack a cooler, throw in some beers, maybe even act like we're bonding for the first time in your miserable life. You'd feel relaxed, safe, thinking maybe we're turning a corner."
He got closer, and I could feel the weight of every word settling on my chest like concrete.
"And then, we'd drink something special. Yours would have a little...enhancement.Odorless. Tasteless. You'd drop like a stone mid-toast, and I'd watch you twitch like the spineless worm you are."
My mouth went dry. He wasn't even blinking.
"Then I'd wrap your worthless body in fishing wire, tie it to a rock the size of your delusion, and sink you to the bottom of the bay where even the crabs would be too dignified to touch you."
He tilted his head, smiling faintly.
"I'd scatter fish bait over your corpse so the ocean could do what it does best—erase mistakes. In a week, maybe two, your face would be so chewed up and bloated they wouldn't be able to tell if you were my son-in-law or a drowned raccoon."
I blinked. "That's... wildly specific."
He paused, jaw clenched.
