"Hand over Thomas Harding and turn yourself in! Otherwise, today is the end of the Dunn family!"
Malcolm grabbed my arm. "Reggie, don't go out there. Let me handle them. If it comes to it, we go back to the old ways and fight."
I looked at the gray streaking my father's temples, and something twisted in my chest.
A mortal, even a syndicate boss, was still nothing against a dynasty backed by real money and real power. Fragile as glass against a battering ram.
But I was no mortal.
"Dad, stay here and watch over Thomas."
I shrugged off my blood-stained jacket and rolled up my sleeves.
"The Hardings want to crush me? Today I show them who really holds the power."
I shoved open the corridor window. Before anyone could react, I vaulted over the ledge and dropped three stories straight down.
BOOM.
I landed square on top of the fountain statue in the hospital courtyard, the impact sending a shockwave through the stone.
Within seconds, over a dozen gun barrels swung toward me in unison, black muzzles steady and cold.
Foreign mercenaries. Quinton had paid top dollar for them.
Quinton sat in his wheelchair, and the moment he saw me land, a flicker of manic satisfaction lit up his eyes.