Hearing his father’s name from the mouth of a stranger, Jason froze.
“You… you know my dad?”
George didn’t bother answering him. Instead, he turned to the back.
“David, call his family. Tell his father to come pick him up.”
Jason snatched out his own phone before David could dial.
“Call him? Great idea! I’ll call my dad myself. He’ll bring men here and flatten this dump!”
He quickly dialed.
“Dad! I was attacked! Right outside that old veterans’ home in the suburbs! Bring people—lots of them! There’s a bunch of decrepit old fools throwing their weight around!”
On the other end, Richard Coleman’s voice sounded annoyed.
“What trouble have you stirred up now? Fine, I’ll be there soon!”
Jason hung up, looking even more smug.
Samantha, sensing something was off, tugged on his sleeve.
“Jason, maybe… maybe we should just let it go. I wasn’t even filmed—let’s not make this worse.”
“Let it go? No way! If I don’t break these old men’s bones today, my name isn’t Jason Coleman!”
He pointed at me.
“Old man, kneel right now and beg me. Maybe when my dad gets here, I’ll let him go easy on you.”
Then he jabbed a finger at Michael.
“And you—when my dad shows up, I’ll have him gouge out your eyes and cut you down so you’ll never dare look at Samantha again!”
At the guard post by the gate, a young soldier had already picked up the internal line to report the situation to higher authorities.
