"Ezra Quinn? He's Mr. Quinn's grandson. You know him?"
"I wouldn't say I know him. I just happened to see him get beaten up yesterday."
Jett Westgate recalled the scene at The Empyrean Palace the previous night and found it rather amusing. Zane Patterson hadn't held back. The kid had been sprawled on the ground, unable to get up, but he had a tough mouth. He hadn't uttered a single word of surrender from start to finish. He had some grit, at least.
When Jett didn't say more, Kian Miller probed, "So, Jett, are you meeting him or not? If you don't want to, I'll just turn them down for you."
So many people wanted to curry favor with the Westgate Family that Jett Westgate usually couldn't be bothered. Mr. Quinn was in a hurry to see him, and odds are, it was about his precious grandson.
"Send me the address."
"Sure thing." Kian Miller agreed readily, but the background was a chaotic mess of arguing voices. Suddenly, a loud SCRAPE echoed through the phone—
