Virgil made direct eye contact with Chet, and before he even knew what he was doing, he stopped. Sacred stopped, too. The Bull pulled up his knees and wrapped his arms around the ball. His eyes darted from Sacred to Virgil. “What’re you looking at, retardo?” Was that a tremor in his voice? Virgil’s arms hung at his sides. Sacred nudged his hand. “Call me that again, and you’ll regret it,” Virgil said. The Bull’s uncertain smile faded. He cleared his throat. “Whatever,” he said. “It doesn’t take many words to turn your life around, Bayani.”
