Chapter 14
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Zane
S o, this is my life now. I lean back in my father’s chair, the leather creaking in protest as I stare at the security images cycling on the screen before me. Bran set up this elaborate networked system over the course of three decades, leaving us in a position to pick up where he and my father left off.
Thanks to them, we have eyes on the compound and the surrounding city blocks, the financial district on a whole, four different warehouses, a dozen retail outlets in the PATH underground, and the docks where our shipments of enchanted objects land.
And the minute the Toronto skyline is dark enough, that’s where we’ll be heading because there is work to be done.
Energy tingles over my skin tonight. I feel alive.
It’s strange to think that only a few nights ago, everything felt like it was crashing down around me. It’s remarkable what bedding the woman you love can do to reset the axis of a man’s world.
I finally showed Scotland how much I love her.
No more dodging our feelings, or hiding behind past mistakes and the pain they caused. Just the pure, unfiltered connection we’ve always shared.
But better.
I can still taste her on my lips—the sweetness of her blood on my tongue, mingling with the intensity of her arousal. Even thinking about it has my cock thick and aching.
And then there are the images I’ve dreamt up, picturing what her reconciliation with Huntley looked like. Huntley didn’t get into specifics, but I know the two of them well enough to recreate the scene in my mind.
And then talking about what a four-person relationship looks like with Tucker in the mix…
The idea sounded ridiculous at first, but the more I think about it, the more appealing it becomes. We all want her. We all love her. Why not embrace it?
I chuckle to myself. Who would’ve thought Zane Vasari, King of the Toronto Seethe, would be considering a polyamorous relationship with my best friend and the children of both of my father’s Sacred Squires?
Would they approve? No.
Will that stop us? No.
But now that our personal lives are finally on track, I need to get our professional life sorted. The vampire world is watching, and I have enemies circling my kingdom.
I glance at the clock again—five minutes after I called them and asked them to come. Huntley was meeting with Link and the royal guards and Scottie was finishing up a last-minute training with Tucker and Jack.
I hear them the moment they enter the royal residence.
The door to my office swings open and Huntley strides in first. He’s looking every bit the Viking warrior tonight, with his blond hair falling longer than he usually allows it to grow, and those piercing blue eyes meeting mine.
“You called for an audience, my king?”
I quirk an eyebrow at him. “Are you ready for a little blood-spilling outing?”
A smirk creeps onto his face. “Always.”
Scottie follows behind him, her presence instantly lighting up the dim room like she’s our beacon in this dark underworld we navigate nightly. She walks with confidence now—there’s power radiating from her that wasn’t there before—thanks to her training and acceptance of her place as my squire.
“How was your training, Scots?” I push out from my desk and pat my lap.
She strides around my desk and sits right where I want her. I wrap my arms around her and run my nose under her hair, breathing her in. “Mmm, you smell like sweat and exertion.”
She giggles. “You make it sound sexy. It’s really not. I stink.”
Tucker chuckles as he settles inside the door. Now that I know his full intentions, I find his demeanor grounding despite him being built like an ox. “Even when you stink, you smell delectable.”
She blows him a kiss and then leans back to turn to me. “What’s going on? Why did you call us in?”
I gesture toward the shipping manifests and inventory papers strewn about on the top of my desk. “We have a shipment of enchanted objects coming in tonight. We’re going on a stakeout to oversee its arrival.”
“To find out where things are going missing?” Huntley asks.
“I want to follow our cargo from the moment the shipment arrives until it’s locked up tight within our warehouse. Someone, somewhere, is stealing from us.”
Scottie frowns. “Do I have time for a shower?”
I shake my head. “Not this time. Get dressed for a stakeout and meet me in the entryway in five minutes.”
Scottie
The night air carries the tang of diesel and fish, mingling with the metallic screech of cargo cranes swinging their loads through the darkness. I shift my weight on my belly, working to find a more comfortable position than lying on the cold metal of the shipping container.
“See anything suspicious?” Zane whispers beside me, his body a warm presence against my side.
I adjust the focus on my binoculars as I track the movement below. “Just dock workers doing their jobs. But why ask me? You’re the one with heightened sight and built-in night vision.”
His shoulder brushes mine as he scans the area. “I get a kick out of watching you fumble with those things. It’s entertaining.”
“Rude. And here I was liking you again. Too bad you blew it.”
He chuckles. “Oh, you like me just fine.”
“I’m just using you for sex.”
“I’m okay with that. I will gratefully be your sex toy and never complain about being used.”
I flash him a sidelong glance and grin. Being here, working alongside him again—it feels right. Natural.
“If you two are finished flirting up there,” Huntley says over our ear buds, “you might be interested to know that the Vasari shipment has been offloaded from the boat and is being transferred to the truck.”
“Roger that, Viking,” Zane says.
I make a face at Zane and try not to laugh. “We’ve been told.”
Zane shakes his head. “He’s just cranky because you don’t want to use him as a sex toy.”
“I can hear you, assholes.”
I laugh. “Don’t listen to him, H. I would happily use you as my sexual plaything.”
Staring down, scanning the movement of the crates from ship to truck, is slow but encouraging. Nothing underhanded is happening. Or at least nothing we can see from our vantage point up here.
Tucker’s massive form appears and disappears between containers below, moving with surprising stealth for someone his size. Huntley’s blond head occasionally catches the harsh dock lighting as he prowls the shadows on the opposite side.
After thirty minutes of nothing unusual, the workers secure the last crate. The truck’s engine rumbles to life, diesel fumes curling up toward our perch.
“Well, that was anticlimactic.” I lower the binoculars and push up to my knees.
Zane stands, offering me a hand. “Sometimes boring is good.”
We climb down the side of the shipping container and make our way to where we parked the truck. Tucker jogs over, his expression tight.
“Where’s Huntley?” Zane asks.
Tucker runs a hand through his hair. “He slipped onto the truck when they weren’t looking. He’s riding with the shipment.”
Zane
I stare at Tucker standing there with the keys. “He what? Huntley stows away in the shipment truck, and you just let him go?”
Scottie grabs my wrist. “Don’t kill the messenger, Z.”
Tucker straightens and meets my ire. “There wasn’t anything I could’ve done. He tossed the keys to me and raced off at top vamp speed.”
Of course he did.
The three of us pile into the vehicle like our asses are on fire and Tucker starts the engine. “I take it we’re following the shipment?”
I glare at the red running lights of the transport truck carrying our enchanted shipment. “Yes, follow the truck.…” and Huntley’s reckless ass.
The Toronto docks are dark ahead of us, a convoluted maze of asphalt alleys leading to metal warehouses.
“What was he thinking?” I run my fingers through my hair, tension building in every cell of my body.
Scottie reaches up from the back seat and squeezes my shoulder. “He’ll be fine, Z. He knows we’ll follow and be there to back him up if things go south.”
“But if Lazarus is behind this, there’s no telling what kind of trouble he might find himself in.”
He could be killed. After the deaths of our fathers and Dante, the mortality of the people around me has never been so threateningly real.
“Faster, Tucker. Don’t you fucking lose them.”
The big man doesn’t respond. He’s already got his foot on the gas and is keeping pace without my barking at him.
Scottie squeezes my shoulder again. “Breathe, Z. No one is dying tonight. Not Huntley. Not anyone.”
Her reassurance helps, but doesn’t erase the dangers Huntley put himself into. “Just don’t lose that truck.”
I keep my gaze locked on the truck navigating the road ahead, a mixture of determination and exasperation warring for dominance within me.
I clench my jaw and reach out with my gift. If you can hear this, Viking. I’m going to punish you for being so reckless with your life. You’ll be so sore, you’ll beg for forgiveness.
The truck rounds a corner, and Tucker follows, maintaining our distance like a predator stalking its prey.
“Wait. Do you feel that?” Scottie gasps in the backseat, at the same time the truck vanishes from the road.
It didn’t turn. It’s just…gone. As if someone waved a hand and wiped it from existence, leaving only the echo of its presence and a chill running down my spine.
“Where did it go?” I scan the empty street, my heart pounding. “Where the fuck did it go? Scots? What did you feel? You called it before it even happened.”
Scottie’s expression is pinched. “There was a pulse of magic. It looked a little like the shimmer of a magical mirage—a powerful ripple warped the air and then the truck was gone.”
“Gone or cloaked?”
“Gone.”
Fucking hell.
Tucker slows the truck, pulling to the curb.
“Why the fuck are you stopping?” I snap.
Tucker turns to me and gestures out the front windshield. “Because there’s no truck to follow. Where am I going? I could just as easily go the wrong way, and that could cost us time once we figure out where it went.”
I scowl at the darkness of the empty street in front of us. “How do we find him? Trucks don’t just disappear, so where the fuck did it go?”
“I have an idea.” Scottie is already typing on her phone, her fingers flying across the screen with a frenetic energy. “Da has GPS tracking on all the phones of clan members. To…” She pauses, a spark of triumph lighting up her face. “Got him. Tucker, take a left at the next light. He’s not far.”
Tucker
I pull the truck into a dark side alley close to the location where Scottie tracked Huntley’s phone. Before I’ve even turned off the engine, Zane and Scottie are out the doors and rushing through the shadows.
Keys in hand, I click to lock things up and jog to follow. We crouch in the shadows when we come to a two-story brick building with large bay doors. The place is dark and looks like it’s sealed tight, but according to the GPS, the truck is inside.
We need to find a way in.
“There.” I point to a rusted fire escape. “We can access the second floor at the far end of the building.”
Zane takes point, his vampire grace and speed making him practically invisible in the darkness. Scottie follows close behind, her movements silent as she scales the metal stairs. I bring up the rear, ready to protect her if anything should happen and threaten her safety.
When we get to the top, a window slides open under Zane’s insistence, and we slip inside. The warehouse floor spreads out below through gaps in the catwalk grating. I catch the conversation floating up from the workers.
“Catalogue number 147—enchanted compass that points to your heart’s desire,” calls out a male witch with frizzy red hair. “Get the replica in the right container this time, Ansel!”
A wiry male in all black bares his fangs. “Careful, spell-flinger. Remember who works for who here.”
Zane’s gaze narrows. “Fucking fanger mutt. All right, I count six of them in total. We get down there and block any chance these assholes get away.”
The three of us sneak off to get into position.
The male witch seems unaffected by the threat from the turned vamp. “Number 92—rings of shared consciousness. They let the wearers communicate telepathically. How are you coming with the replica, Phoebe?”
“Finished. Just packaging it now,” calls another witch standing at a worktable off to the side. She hands the replica rings to another mutt and points to where it needs to be repacked.
I frown at the ladder leading down to the main warehouse floor. It’s off to the side, but if any of the six of them turn, I’ll be in full view.
Oh well, there’s nothing to be done about that.
“Number 156—chalice of immortality. Supposedly grants eternal life to mortals who drink from it.”
Phoebe chuckles. “Some races are so gullible.”
The witch with the red hair flips the page of the item list. “I bet it draws the highest bids at the auction.”
“Oh, I’m sure it will.”
The red-headed witch drops his attention back to the manifest. “Catalogue number 21—a shadow cloak. Perfect invisibility, even from supernatural sight.”
I stop listening as I make it to the warehouse floor, and spot Huntley crouched behind some crates. I hunch forward and run off into the shadows to join him. When I take a knee beside him, he holds up four fingers and taps his vamp fang, then two fingers and wriggles his finger in the air.
I’m fairly certain the jazz hands represent the two witches. I nod my understanding.
Huntley’s head turns to where I know Zane and Scottie are hiding over by the rolling bay doors. His gaze goes blank and then he turns to me and holds out his hand with five fingers spread wide.
I nod once again—we take them down in five.
A quick scan of the workers and I choose my first target.
One of Huntley’s fingers drops. Then another.
Four. Three. Two.
Huntley’s fangs gleam in the dim light.
One.
I explode into action. I launch myself around the crate, pouncing on the nearest vampire. Scottie’s power blazes as she and Zane burst out of the shadows in a blur of lethal motion, while Huntley erupts from his hiding spot with a roar.
The fight is on.
My fist connects with a turned vampire’s jaw, the satisfying crunch of bone echoing through the warehouse. These newly turned are strong but sloppy—all blood-lust aggression, no technique. I use his momentum against him, pivoting to slam him into a stack of crates.
“Scottie, duck!”
She drops instantly at my warning as magical energy crackles overhead. The witch’s spell hits the wall behind her, leaving a scorched crater. Pride swells in my chest at how quickly she responds in combat situations.
Across the room, Huntley moves like liquid death, his fighting experience evident in every precise strike. He has one vampire pinned against a support beam while trading blows with another.
Zane fights with controlled fury beside him, his true-blood genes giving him an undeniable advantage as he keeps the fourth vampire at bay.
A flash of movement catches my eye. The red-headed witch is circling toward Scottie’s blind spot while she’s focused on the female witch.
I shoulder-check my opponent into the wall and sprint toward her. “Not happening,” I growl, intercepting the witch’s path. He raises his hands, dark energy gathering at his fingertips.
Scottie spins, her own power manifesting in a brilliant arc that catches the witch off-guard. The collision of magics sends sparks showering across the floor. I use the distraction to close the distance, grabbing the male witch’s wrist and disrupting his spell-casting.
“Tuck, behind you!” Huntley’s warning has me dropping and rolling, narrowly avoiding the vampire I’d left against the wall. He recovered faster than I expected, fangs bared as he lunges for my throat.
Scottie’s power pulses again, stronger this time. The vampire stumbles, giving me the opening to drive my elbow into his sternum. The blow sends him staggering back into Zane’s waiting grip.
The vamp’s head is promptly torn free from his shoulders.
The female witch screams something in Latin. The air grows thick with ozone as magical energy builds. I dive toward Scottie, shielding her with my body as the spell detonates. The blast rocks the warehouse, but Scottie’s squire magic forms a protective bubble around us.
“Thanks,” she pants, “but I had it.”
“I’m so impressed with you right now.” I help her up, scanning for remaining threats.
Huntley has one vampire’s head dripping blood on the warehouse floor, while Zane efficiently dispatches another. The witches are attempting to retreat toward the exit, but Huntley’s next strike takes their feet out from under them.
“The chalice,” one vampire gasps as Zane pins him. “It’s worth big money. We can cut you in?—”
“Why would I negotiate with the thieves stealing from me?” Zane silences him with a decisive twist.
I maintain my protective stance near Scottie as Huntley secures the witches for questioning. My bear’s instincts still buzz with protective energy, even though she’s proven she can hold her own.
The warehouse falls quiet except for our captives’ struggles. Huntley starts zip-tying the witches while Zane examines the stolen artifacts. Scottie steps closer to me, her hand finding mine in the darkness.
Despite the chaos, everything feels right. This is where I belong—fighting alongside the woman I love and the men she loves.