30. Wolfe Acquisitions #2
The space was ransacked; kitchen utensils were flung about, papers lay dead in corners, and the walls were completely covered in red and purple yarn. I hit the lights, and ten vultures kra’d.
“Get down,” Nathem shouted, pulling me back when a flurry of wings flew through the shattered glass. “Oh. Fuck,” he gagged, craning his neck to get a better view of the stringy carcass dead on the floor.
Why in the hell would the Reapers want Threx to come here?
I stepped in, Nathem’s eyes blowing wide to search for any reasoning to this madness.
“Look around. See if you can find out who this guy was.”
Nathem nodded, veering left toward the back while I searched the main space. For the most part, it was ordinary shit: random throw pillows, tiny cereal cups, wadded-up paper that didn’t mean a goddamn thing.
I crouched low to determine if there was a tattoo, a brand that could point to who he belonged to.
Nothing.
“Boss?” Nathem called from the back, and I turned, the edge in his voice pulling me closer. “Fucking Acquisitions.”
No. My head tumbled inside itself, and suddenly I wanted to set the world on fire.
“Please tell me it isn’t us!”
“Wish I could, but… You should see this.”
I followed the yarn, realizing now it must lead to what we like to call a murderboard, or in this guy’s case, an interweb of the Underworld and all its major players.
Acquisitions were contractors used by kings and queens to obtain full intel on smaller club dynamics, to liquidate assets, and bring them on board. Meaning some shithead was looking to take my fucking throne and all my men with it. And that shithead was none other than…
“Marianne!” Nathem threw the acquisition log at me, and I stared at her name as if I was seeing it for the first time.
These contractors did not just summarize club activities; they looked into who you fucked, when you fucked, and wrote an entire manifesto on each member’s strengths and weaknesses.
So, I shouldn’t have been surprised when five men all pointed to Daphne’s picture in the middle of the board with the phrase “hit point” hovering above her head.
While Nathem, Jessie, and Blade were not love interests, they would die for her. We were family.
Thank God I found this and not Threx.
“Apparently, she was playing Lyla." Nathem squinted at the recommendation section. I grabbed it before he could read more. Although Nathem knew we transferred the hit off Daphne to my true queen, we had not informed him about her traitor status.
“Right there,” he pointed at the paragraph that detailed how Marianne should pin Daphne’s demise off the books, and how using Lyla as a pawn and a play for jealousy had the least psychological risk to the club and its greatest assets.
It also recommended doing this during a low-key attack or during an event that requires retribution from other players.
Fuck me, Karsten’s son’s ankle! Marianne was just waiting for an opportunity to set this all in motion.
“Did Lyla snap that picture?” Nathem asked, and I nodded.
“No one finds out,” I breathed deep and threw the binder on the ground.
“Damn right. They’ll fucking riot.”
“Which is what she wants,” I exhaled. “She wanted to cause a mutiny, insert distrust so that when she showed up with a golden bone, my men would follow like all the other dogs in her court.”
“Yeah, well, that is not all,” Nathem pointed at the board. “Apparently, Jessie, Blade, and 67 percent of our guys are nontransferable.”
Meaning Marianne would kill them. Acquisition contractors paid close attention to who could assimilate under the new order or who would rise against them.
“Did you see that?” Nathem groaned. “Threx is only transferable if Daphne swears fealty. And they labeled him as an acceptable high risk because of his valuable skills.
“Dammit.” Everyone wanted him. He was too good at turning everything off.
“What are you going to do? I am not working for Marianne. I’d rather fucking die!” Nathem swallowed, kicking some shit into the wall. “We could go to Shade? Tyrian’s replacement," he shouted, his mind moving faster than his ability to speak.
“He won’t touch us. He and Marianne do not get along, and our club has worked with her for too long not to view it as an act of underhanded loyalty."
“He is new. So are you! There might be a conversation there.”
“One that ends with a bullet in my head. Think about it, Nathem! You really want to pledge your soul to Cross?” I arched a brow. “You think we have a hit on our fucking heads now? That’s traitor shit. We’ll end up on the goddamn wall.”
Nathem growled.
“What about the Reapers?”
Oh, yes, the Reapers.
Zade Carden had always looked after Threx ever since he walked away from the Reapers in the name of love.
Something about that entire damn family lives for that romantic bullshit.
He must have been out on a hit and came across the evidence in the crossfire.
I tried not to think about the fact that if Threx had owned his massive dick and found this out a week ago, I would have had more time to formulate an approach.
But now with Lyla dead and all the Underworld looking to see how I will react, including Marianne when she realizes her plan failed, there was only one thing left to do. Own it all.
“Get the explosives,” I groaned, leaning against the wall. Nathem’s eye perked, but he didn’t argue, only padded into the darkness and out the door.
It gave me a moment to process. To stare at that board with my entire life wrapped in yarn. It was almost sad to think that if you cut one thread, the structure crumbled.
Daphne’s face stared at me from behind, wearing that quiet expression she often leans into whenever it rains. I was still looking at her when Nathem returned with a handful of red and chucked the bomb on the floor.
“You want me to set it?”
“Yeah,” I nodded, taking my phone out of my pocket and hitting Marianne’s face.
“Tell Marianne we need to talk,” I said, watching Nathem work, and waited until her little pet came back with a response.
“Two days is fine,” I agreed, thinking ahead.
Threx would return, and Daphne would still be in Maine. I hung up the call.
“What are you going to do?”
“I intend to hear her plan. We can’t confront this thing if we don’t know what we are up against. Now get Blade on the line,” I added, turning out the door and back into the clearing. It was a good thing I had him park so far away.
“Can he see it?” I asked as I stood beside the car, and Nathem grinned, turning the phone to the trailer. I might not be able to cure Blade’s monsters, but I could at least give him the boom.
“Fuck yeah, he can.”
“Light it up!” I smiled when the entire thing exploded into the sky. A clash of reds, oranges, and nothingness filled the forgotten space.
Buzz.
Buzz.
Daphne: Thay says my sandcastle looks like a sand dick!
I eyed the picture through the smoke. Fucking hell, it did look like a cock.
Me: Why did you give it balls?
Daphne: THOSE ARE TURRETS
Me: Those are balls!
Daphne: Fuck you. It is a castle!
Me: It’s really not.
Daphne: Did you get home safe?
I watched the plumes of smoke decorate the sky in black fire, slamming the car door behind me.
Daphne: Wolfe?
I never dreamed of being someone else. I learned early on that the only thing dreams do is make you weak.
Reality was the only truth you could depend on.
My father was a shadow ruler, and my mother was a sex worker from the Brimstone district.
There was never a question about the role I would play or who I would become.
But whenever I had to lie to her to keep her protected, I didn’t really like myself much. In fact, I didn’t like myself at all.
Me: Yeah, Daph… my thumbs twitched on the screen… All safe.