Anyone with eyes could see it. That kind of instinct didn't come from a casual working relationship. Something deeper was at play.
I stood there watching her, a faint smile on my lips.
Myra's expression had gone rigid, her eyes cold as glass. One hand still gripped Jordan's, asking if he was okay. The other hand balled into a fist at her side as she lifted her head and glared at me with pure venom.
"What is wrong with you, Luke? What did Jordan ever do to deserve that?"
"Aren't you afraid you've crippled him?"
"How are you going to compensate him for that?"
I glanced at Jordan, still writhing on the floor, drenched in sweat. A cold smile tugged at the corner of my mouth. "He's the one who asked to have his bloodline cut off. Everyone here heard him."
"I was simply granting his wish."
The words had barely left my lips.
Myra shot to her feet and jabbed a trembling finger at me, the tip nearly poking me in the eye.
"Luke, you're twisting his words and you know it."
"All these people heard him!"
"He was swearing an oath to prove his innocence."
"And you used that as an excuse to kick him."
"That's assault!"
"If I call the cops on you, your life is over!"