Page 117 of Desperate Games

Broken bones will heal. But they’re out. Fired on the spot.

They’ll have plenty of time to explain to their wives why their Christmas bonuses turned into hospital bills.

The first call I made after tearing into them was to Josef Aziz.

I told him plain and simple—this wasn’t a Sigma team I trained.

I wouldn’t put my name on sloppy, complacent work like that.

And now Josef’s hauling the whole chain of command through remedial hell, making sure no one with a Sigma patch on their arm ever makes that mistake again.

That’s business. That’s cleanup.

But me? I’m still boiling.

Because when I picture Andy holding that box?

When I think about Callie’s name written in block letters, sitting on my porch like bait?

I want blood.

No courtroom. No lawyers. No judges.

Just me, a locked room, and Julio Castillo’s throat under my hand.

The door to chambers cracks open and I stop pacing. My hands curl into fists, my pulse pounding so loud it’s all I hear.

I don’t care what decision the judge makes today about Christmas custody, visitation, whatever bullshit Julio’s lawyers think they’re winning.

Because as far as I’m concerned?

This isn’t ending in court.

It’s ending when Julio learns the hard way that nobody comes after my family and walks away breathing.

The minute the judge’s clerk shuts the chamber door behind her, I hear it—his voice.

Oily. Smug. That lazy swagger like he owns the air we’re breathing.

Julio Castillo.

He steps into the hallway like it’s a catwalk, his sharkskin suit gleaming under the fluorescents, his greasy grin already pointed in my direction.

“Falco,” he drawls, dragging out every syllable like it’s a taunt. “How’s my little girl?”

My spine goes rigid. My fists clench so hard I swear bone might snap.

My little girl.

Callie isn’t his anything. Never was. Never will be.

“She’s not yours,” I grit out.

He smirks, steps closer until I catch the sour tang of his cologne.

“We’ll see what the judge says.” His eyes flicker with something darker, something gleeful. “But hey, don’t worry, she can call you from time to time. Maybe she’ll tell you all about the friend I have. He can’t wait to make her acquaintance when custody works out in my favor. He’s a real special friend to little girls.”

My skin crawls.