Shawn fixed a piercing glare on Ezra, who had just landed a punch squarely on his nose. Disbelief registered in his wide eyes as he tried to process what he could have done to provoke such an attack. "Damn it," he muttered under his breath, using a handkerchief to dab at the blood staining his nose.
His attention shifted back to Ezra, who adjusted his sleeve and checked his wristwatch, acting as if he could simply walk away unscathed and without consequence.
As Ezra began to walk away, Shane grabbed him by the arm. "Hold up! You owe me an explanation for that hit," Shane demanded, his voice firm.
Ezra glared back, teeth clenched. "Let go of my fucking arm or you'll take another hit that'll do damage to your brain" he warned, his tone a low growl, eyes narrowing dangerously.
With a raised brow of curiosity, Shane released him but held his ground. "We need to have a serious conversation."
