I knew my dad was lording something over Bryant's head, but the reality is far worse than anything I had considered. I knew my dad was a bad person, but I had no idea how bad. Bryant was in knots when he was telling me about it. I could tell he was hurting, and that's why I know what I'm about to do is necessary. I also know I have to be careful.

"You have a minute?" I ask my father as I step inside his office.

Bryant asked me not to talk to my dad about this. He told me it would only make things worse, and I told him I wouldn't. Truth is, I don't see how it can get much worse than lording his father's safety over his head.

"A quick minute," he tells me, disapprovingly, clearly not happy with his being interrupted in his home office.

I never come in here. In fact, this is the first time in my life I've been in here. He always keeps the door closed whether he's home or not, and I've never had much of an interest in being in this office. His presence in here is usually enough to make me avoid it at all costs.

"I can be quick," I assure him, taking a step further into his office.

I consider the chair in front of his desk, but I decide I'm already coming to him in a vulnerable position. I've never asked him for much, but today I want something from him. I'm not naïve enough to think he's going to let Bryant stop selling for him just because I ask, but I've thought about it a lot.

"So, I know you're making Bryant sell for you," I tell him, not bothering to beat around the bush.

He appreciates people who are upfront with him, and I don't have any interest in prolonging this conversation more than I need to. His eyes widen when I admit to my knowledge of the situation, but that's his only reaction.

"I'm wondering if it'd be possible for me to take his place," I ask what I really came in here to ask.

He shakes his head, and frowns.

"I have no interest in involving you in that part of my business," he tells me, "if you would like to work for me, I can always train you on the more legitimate aspects of what I do."

"So, what, I'm too good to get my hands dirty, but Bryant can all he wants?" I snap at him despite my intentions to keep a level head while discussing this.

My dad snorts in derision.

"Bryant's hands were dirty before I entered his life, and they'll be dirty long after I'm gone," he tells me with a shrug, "what's a little more dirt?" he asks.

I glare at him in disbelief. I threw out the question thinking he'd back off of that idea, but his words tell me he really does believe I'm somehow above Bryant.

"Why, because he has less money than we do?" I ask, fully prepared to call him on just how dirty the money he has is when he confirms my suspicions.

Instead of confirming the suspicions I have, he reaches into his desk drawer, and he pulls out a file.

"Take a look for yourself," he says, nudging a folder across the desk to me.

I walk over to the desk, and I take a look inside the folder he slid me.

"What am I looking at?" I snap at him.

"That is an accounting of the criminal activity Bryant had done before he started working for me," my dad says.

I skim the page in front of me, already hating that my dad thinks he has a one up on me. He doesn't. Whatever this says, it makes no difference. Bryant has to stop selling for my dad. It's dangerous, and he deserves a break in life. After everything he's been through, he deserves a little time to breathe.

The record I'm holding is quite extensive if I'm being honest, and it has a lot of words on it that make Bryant look less than perfect—words like, assault and theft. That said, his description of his past makes it make more sense in my head. There's more than likely an explanation, and sure, I'll try to get it, but that doesn't mean I'm going to let this convince me to stop trying to get my dad to let him out of helping him in exchange for keeping his dad safe.

My hands are as clammy as they always are when Holland texts me out of the blue telling me he wants me to meet him in his office. Knowing that Kyle is home right now makes that worse. He'll know I'm in with his dad, and there's no doubt in my mind Kyle won't understand.

Sure, he took the information about my dad better than I would have thought possible, but even after I told him everything, he still tried to convince me to stop selling drugs for his dad. He clearly still doesn't understand the difference between doing something because you want to and doing something because you have to.

I feel worse about my meeting with Holland than I normally would after filling Kyle in on the truth. I wasn't supposed to tell Kyle. I made Kyle assure me he wouldn't talk to his dad about it, and he seemed receptive to that, but that doesn't mean I don't feel like a kid being called into the principal's office after doing something wrong.

I don't knock on Holland's door when I enter his office. Part of that is because I don't want Kyle to see me in the hallway outside of his dad's office, and I'm hoping I can slip in and out before he notices. The other part of it is because knocking is a show of respect, and I don't respect Holland.

I walk into his office, and he closes the laptop on his desk. Sneaky motherfucker is probably doing something shady on his computer, which shouldn't surprise me. It doesn't surprise me in all honesty, but it does cause my temper to spike. He's a slimy bastard, and he's had me by the balls for a while now.

"Have a seat," Holland says, and what choice do I have than to do what he asks.

He makes a show of folding his hands in front of him on his desk, and he takes his time before opening his mouth to talk. I recognize it as a tactic to make me uncomfortable, but it's going to take a lot more than that to have me squirming in my seat. It pisses me off enough that I'm pushing his product for him.

"Have an interesting conversation with my son, did you?" he asks.

That. Those words, are exactly the correct combination of words to have me squirming. Fuck. I'm going to kill Kyle. I sit up straighter in my chair, and I respond with urgency.

"He put a tracker on my phone, and knew I was going to the prison. He found out for himself," I tell him, hating having to explain myself to this guy, but knowing my father's safety depends on it.

"He followed your phone to the prison, and jumped from that to the correct conclusion you're selling drugs for me?" Holland asks, sounding doubtful.

It's no wonder why he's doubtful. I didn't have to tell Kyle, but I still fully believe he would've found out with or without my telling him.

"He was tracking my phone. How long do you honestly think it would've been before he found out?" I ask him.

Holland lets out a puff of air through his nose before running his hands through his hair. Then he looks back at me with a bored expression on his face.

"At any rate," he says, shifting some of the papers around on his desk, "our agreement was for you to keep my son out of this."

I open my mouth to defend myself, but I don't get the chance because he continues talking.

"Your father is in the hospital," Holland tells me sounding disinterested.

My heart sinks in my chest.

"What do you mean he's in the hospital?"

Holland continues with his bored act, and I consider leaping across his desk and choking the fucking words out of him.

"I mean what I said. There was an unfortunate incident late last night. They called your mom this morning so she could let you know, and I told her I'd break the news to you," Holland says.

"An incident? What the fuck does that mean. Is he okay?" I ask, pushing out of my chair.

Holland has the balls to laugh at my spike in temper.

"He was in prison, Bryant. How long do you honestly think it would've been before he got jumped?"

He's parroting my question back to me, and I've never felt angrier than I do in that moment. I try to breathe through it. I now the last thing I need is to make him angrier, but for now anyway, my dad is in the hospital, away from his men who put him there.

My temper makes my vision blur into darkness, and I lunge across the desk at Holland.