My eyes went wide and they darted to Danté. The fury was burning in his eyes, and he went to stand in front of Officer Smith.
"How many?" Danté growled. Nick's hands were curled into tight fists, knuckles white.
"H-huh?" Smith was confused.
Danté grabbed Smith's throat in one hand, and I could see his biceps flex through the tight black polar neck sweater that he was wearing. He lifted Smith so that the hind legs of the metal chair raised from the ground.
Smith's face was turning a dark shade of red and he gurgled.
I gulped. "He can't talk like that."
"I don't f*cking care. He'll just have to speak through his goddamned asshole then." Danté's back was to me, but I knew even without seeing his face that he must have looked terrifying. He was a furious tiger, and he was going to bite off the head of his enemy.
"How many of my young men have been slaughtered by that son of a bitch?!" Danté roared into Smith's face.
