Eighty

Zane's POV

I stood there, fists clenched, staring Dave Scott down. Every fiber of my being wanted to lunge at him, to make him pay for everything he’d done. But I couldn’t—at least, not yet.

The recorder in my pocket was still running, capturing every damning word that fell from his mouth. I could feel it, a tiny weight pressing against my ribs, reminding me that I had to play this smart.

For Belle. For Kelly. For justice.

Dave, on the other hand, was as smug as ever, leaning back with that infuriating smirk plastered across his face. He had no idea that his time was running out.

“You think you can just waltz in here and act like you own the place?” Dave sneered, his voice dripping with arrogance. “You’re nothing, Zane. A nobody playing hero in a game that’s way beyond your league.”

I bit back my anger, forcing myself to remain calm. His words didn’t matter. Not when I had the truth on my side. I took a deep breath, my fingers brushing against the stop button on the recorder hidden