Infinite Rebate: I Get Richer Every Time I Spend

The office went dead silent.

Durnik’s face, which had been flushed with rage only moments earlier, drained into something colder. The shouting stopped. What replaced it was quieter and more dangerous ~ a slow, ugly calculation turning behind his eyes.

Lookas.

The name settled in his head and refused to leave. The same young fool who had been circling his business, his reputation, his patience. And now he had the nerve to send a message through Tharok like he was already standing above him.

For a few seconds Durnik didn’t move at all. He just stood there breathing through his nose, staring at nothing in particular while the pieces arranged themselves in his mind. The livestream chaos. The sudden interference. The way everything around Gracie had slipped out of his control in a single day. It all started lining up too cleanly.

"Lookas," Durnik breathed.

---

Tharok blinked.

For a second he almost asked the obvious question ~ how Durnik already knew the name, or what kind of history sat between them. The words rose to his tongue before he could stop them. Then he caught the look on Durnik’s face.

Whatever was happening behind those eyes did not leave room for curiosity.

Tharok opened his mouth, then closed it again and stayed silent.

He didn’t get the chance anyway.

"SHUT UP!"

The roar tore out of Durnik raw and unhinged. His hand shot out, grabbed the heavy glass award from the edge of the desk, and hurled it across the room. It hit the wall hard and exploded into shards that rained down over the carpet. One piece skidded all the way near Tharok’s shoe. Another landed close enough to Lena that she flinched like it had been aimed at her.

Near the door, she pressed herself even flatter against the wall, shoulder tight to the surface, eyes lowered. She had been frozen there since Tharok first walked in, and every new outburst only made her smaller. She knew better than to speak when Durnik got like this. Men in this office had lost more than dignity for less.

"That piece of shit," Durnik snarled, pacing now, both hands raking through his hair hard enough to pull at it. "That fucking piece of shit thinks he can humiliate me? Thinks he can send my own enforcer crawling back?"

He laughed once under his breath, but there was no humor in it. Just disbelief turning rancid.

He spun back toward Tharok, eyes wild.

"You’re telling me one man ~ one ~ did all of this?"

Even now, part of him still wanted to reject it. One man beating a full extraction team was already insulting. One man also putting Tharok on the floor afterward was something his pride refused to swallow cleanly.

Tharok’s voice came out flat and emptied of pride.

"Yes." A short pause. "And sir... with respect, I’ve seen a lot of dangerous men. I’ve never seen anything like him."

The slap came before either of them fully registered the movement.

Durnik’s hand cracked across Tharok’s face hard enough to snap his head sideways. The sound was sharp and ugly in the quiet office. Fresh pain flared through the already damaged side of Tharok’s mouth, and the copper taste of blood returned immediately.

"Don’t you dare," Durnik hissed, stepping in until they were nearly chest to chest, voice shaking with fury, "stand in my office and tell me you’re scared of some rich kid who got lucky. You hear me? I built this company from nothing. I don’t give a fuck who he thinks he is."

His breath hit Tharok’s face with every word. For a moment it looked like he might hit him again just to burn off the rest of the anger.

Tharok didn’t move.

Didn’t argue.

Didn’t lift a hand.

He simply absorbed the hit, jaw tightening as the swelling worsened, eyes lowered. There was no point defending himself in this room. Not tonight. Not with Durnik already past reason.

Durnik backed off half a step, breathing hard. His hands flexed at his sides like they still wanted something to break.

"Find out everything about him," he snarled. "Everything. His family. His money. His connections. I don’t care how far you have to dig~"

Tharok cut in before the list could grow longer, and the next words landed like another failure in a day already full of them.

"I already searched." His voice was careful. "There’s nothing useful. What exists is fake. Layered. Whoever he is... he has protection higher than what I can reach right now."

That stopped Durnik more effectively than another argument could have.

For a second he looked ready to hit him again. His shoulder even twitched with the impulse.

Then the strength behind it seemed to drain out of him all at once. His shoulders sagged. The anger was still there, but it had become heavier, tired, fouled by too many disappointments stacking on top of each other in a single day. First Gracie. Then the failed pickup. Now this ~ a man he couldn’t immediately dig up, standing somewhere outside his reach and sending greetings through broken enforcers.

He turned away instead, moved back to his chair, and dropped into it like the weight of the evening had finally caught up with his body. The leather creaked under him. For a moment he just sat there with one hand over his mouth, staring at the shattered glass on the floor without really seeing it.

When he spoke again, the shout still had force, but it sounded scraped raw.

"Get the fuck out of my office," he said. "And go find me answers before I lose what’s left of my patience."

Tharok straightened as best he could. Blood still seeped faintly from his split lip. He gave one short nod ~ sharp, wordless ~ then turned and limped toward the door. Each step was stiff. He didn’t look at Lena on the way out. He didn’t look back at Durnik either.

Behind him, Durnik sat alone among the broken glass and overturned quiet of his office, chest rising and falling, fists clenched so tightly his knuckles had gone pale.

The room still smelled faintly of dust from the shattered award.

"Lucas," he muttered under his breath, the name leaving his tongue like poison.

"You have no idea who you just made an enemy of."

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