Sinclair grimaces. “Which one of you shit-tickets hit him?” “I fell, sir,” Banks lies. SFO is smiling. I focus more on the Alpha lead, Price’s glare drilling me with fueled disappointment. I hear Jane. I’m very, very proud of you. Remember that. I’m trying. My chest rises. “You fell?” Sinclair knows my brother is bullshitting, but he nods and says, “Stop tripping over your damn feet, gent.” “Yes, sir.”
