"Alright," Timothy York said.
The moment he spoke, Silas Dunn flew into a rage. Looking ready to attack, he grabbed Timothy York by the collar. "Timothy York, you really think I won't get physical, huh? I should've fucking decked you a long time ago—"
He was so agitated that the veins on his forehead bulged, but Timothy York's expression remained placid. Even with his collar in a fist, he looked completely unruffled, simply meeting Silas's gaze in silence.
Silas Dunn gritted his teeth, as if waging some intense internal battle. The veins on his face throbbed erratically. Finally, his expression a mask of fury and defiance, he let go. "I know I can't beat you in a fight," he snarled. "But you just wait. I'm going home and I'll start training today. Sooner or later, I'm going to beat you to a pulp—"
"I'll be waiting to see that day," Summer Thorne suddenly chimed in.
