CHAPTER HUNDRED AND THIRTY-ONE

RICHARD’S POV

“Shit! Grandpa!” Amelia screamed, rushing to his side.

"Great, now you've killed the old

man," I muttered, more to myself than anyone else. I rushed to his side to help him up.

"Shut up!" the thug leader snapped

The thug loomed over Tom, a pistol glinting like a bad omen in his hand. "One billion," he boomed, his voice the gravelly remnants of too many cigarettes and too few moral principles. "Interest on the little twerp's debt."

Amelia tried to reason. "Sir, one million was the original agreement. We simply…”

The thug cut her off with a snort. "Sweetheart, agreements are for suckers. Now, you've got two options: cough up the cash or watch your brother take a permanent nap."

Tom was visibly shaking. “I–I'll get the money, just give me some time.”

The leader grabbed him by the collar. “You've had some time, and now time's up.”

I swear, I’ve seen calmer hostage situations in bad action movies. One minute we were talking about some old gambling debt, the next minute grand