"You followed us? You… Tell me, man, what do you want?" Marcus snapped.
Jason didn't answer immediately. Instead, he took a step closer, his voice steady. "I want answers. I already asked you this before. Why do you hate me?"
Marcus rolled his eyes. "We already told you—"
"No," Jason interrupted, his tone sharp. "Not the excuses. The truth."
The smallest of the group, a guy with nervous eyes, shifted in anger as he took out something from his pocket. It glinted in silver and looked pretty dangerous, but Jason knew it was not a knife. "Jason, man, just fuck off and let it go, or else we won't let you—"
"Let it go?" Jason's laugh was cold. "That's rich, coming from the people who've spent months making my life hell. What, you won't let me go? Oouuhh, I'm so scared! Have you ever let me go? Have you ever looked at me?"
