Harold's POV
The small explosive device danced lazily between my fingers as I kept tossing it up, catching it with deliberate slowness. My eyes roamed across the panicked crowd before settling on the Hugh brothers, both frozen like deer in headlights. I gave Phoebe a subtle nod.
She'd been tracking the bomb's arc with her weapon, but now she swiveled the barrel toward Isaac. The terror in his eyes made her lips curve into a wicked grin.
"Mr. Lawrence Hugh, if you keep playing hide-and-seek, I'm going to decorate the deck with your precious grandson's brains!" Her threat sent shockwaves through the crowd.
The scrambling masses finally stopped their chaotic dance. Reality hit them hard—we weren't here for a random massacre. This was Hugh family business.
Some gutsy spectators even rallied to our cause, hollering, "Mr. Lawrence Hugh, show your face! Your boy's about to wet himself!"
"That's right! Kid's never been in the hot seat before! Time for grandpa to step up!"
