Chapter 6 - Reclaiming the Legacy
Landon panicked. He lunged across the table, knocking over water glasses, his fist aimed directly at my jaw.
Muscle memory took over. I slipped to the left, caught his heavy wrist, applied downward leverage on the joint, and drove his palm back toward his forearm. He gasped, dropping to his knees on the carpeted floor with a groan of pain.
"Don't touch me," I murmured directly into his ear.
With my free hand, I reached into his front pocket and pulled out the tarnished silver Zippo. Dad’s initials—*M.B.*—were worn smooth along the edge.
"That's mine!" Landon choked out, thrashing helplessly.
"You never earned a second of it," I said, releasing his wrist and stepping back.
May you like
Mara screeched, clutching Mom, while the restaurant staff rushed to open the double doors. I slipped the lighter into my uniform pocket, turned around, and walked out into the blinding sunlight, my hands completely steady.
---