“One hundred thousand?” I laughed bitterly.
I had faced bullets and shells all my life, but never had I seen such brazen shamelessness.
Michael quickly moved in front of me, whispering, “Grandpa, let’s call the police.”
“Call the police?” one of Jason’s thugs burst out laughing.
“Go ahead! Let’s see whose side the cops take—yours, or Jason’s!”
As he spoke, he kicked Michael’s delivery bag so hard the spilled soup splattered all over Michael’s pants.
“A worthless delivery boy dares to argue with us? Do you know who Jason’s father is? Saying his name would scare you half to death!”
I didn’t bother arguing. I pulled out my old flip phone to call for help.
Jason lunged forward, snatching it from my hand and smashing it to the ground. It shattered into pieces.
“Old fool! Still trying to call someone? I told you—no one can save you today!”
He shoved me hard. My aging body staggered backward, slamming against the car.
“Grandpa!” Michael cried, trying to help me up, but two thugs grabbed him, yanking his hair and kicking the back of his knees until he collapsed with a scream.
“You punk, still trying to help?” Samantha’s eyes flashed with cruelty as she raised her hand to slap him again.