37. Wolfe Dreadwolfe #2
“Everything. Maybe,” she pushed out her tits with a smile. “Wolfe, I propose that you and I get married. I am long overdue for a king, and I need a ruler who can control these little fucks so I can focus my attention on what matters.”
I blinked, bile and shock vibrating through my system like a firecracker let loose in a dumpster.
Marry her? What the actual fuck.
“And in exchange, you may keep your club… alive.. and in your power.”
I narrowed my eyes at her, trying like hell to prevent my feelings from creeping into my expression.
“Remind me why I need to be your husband to run your outfit?”
She laughed, stretching her arms in a defiant nod.
“Because I want you to.”
Control. A leash. A way to ensure her men don’t become mine.
“And?” I lifted my brow, knowing there were no happy endings with Marianne. She wouldn’t offer me power, men, or a means to save my club without taking something from me in return.
“You are good, Wolfe. Makes me wonder if the rest of you is.”
Fucking gross.
“There is the matter of your little plaything and the creature, Threx.”
I did not have to say anything for Marianne to pick up on what her comment did to me; the slightest mention of Daphne’s name made my skin boil.
“Well, it looks like acquisitions got something right,” she smiled, filling her empty cup with more tea. “Threx is a machine, one that everyone wants and that you possess. I won’t pretend that it doesn’t make you twice as hot.”
She took a sip, and I hoped she would choke on it.
“The board, Andrew,” she flicked her wrist, and the older guard stepped forward with a diagram, holding it up like a goddamn wall. “But Threx doesn’t come without her. He gave up the Reapers and a chance at godhood for this thing.”
Thing? I twitched, crossing my legs to bring my shoes closer.
“In fact, rumor has it neither do you.”
“Daphne is not in the club. And as of yesterday, she became Threx’s wife, so my cum is no longer her business.” A damned lie that made me taste Rinley in my mouth.
“Married to the creature, hmmm… That solves one of my problems. But not all of them, I’m afraid.
From my perspective, there are two ways we deal with this.
The cleanest and least bloody requires Daphne to swear fealty, handing over her skill set to my girls and the monstrosity she’s got by the throat.
Gah! I can’t wait to see how that man fucks. I bet he is better than you.”
I wanted to kill her, feed her my fucking gun, and watch her die slowly in front of me.
“And the second?” My nostrils flared, the heat of my blood rising to the tips of my ears.
“You know what comes next, love.” My eyes flashed. “You clear out disloyal men all the time. I can’t acquire a club that is already loyal to another queen unless I own her first.”
“Then let them go.”
“Ha!”
“I mean it. She is not club bait; let Daphne and Threx walk. They can move out of state, and business goes on as usual.”
“Come on, Wolfe. Threx is owned. If he so much as tries to get out, they will chase him to the end of the world, if not for retribution, then to prove what we do with traitors. That or a brief ring to the police sets him up for life without parole. And as for Daphne. She is marked. Fealty or not, she has the creature’s last name.
If he runs, they’ll play with her until she wishes she were dead. Tell me I am wrong.”
Fucking hell, I rolled my neck and turned to the wall.
She wasn’t incorrect, but there were places the Seattle Underworld wouldn’t go.
Other countries, for example, and I had the cash to get them out.
I could pay Carden to cloak them in Reaper cover and smuggle them into a small village off the coast of Iceland.
Threx would hate it. Die in the sun, shrivel, and become a bitter piece of shit that Daphne would forever have to carry up the mental health mountain, but he’d be alive. Sort of.
“Also, I am not about to share my husband with her. Call me jealous or just plain bitchy, but no. I think not.”
Marianne folded her hands, the game in her expression finally waning, when she leaned back like the mob boss she was.
“So what is it going to be, Wolfe? Marriage and a chance to save your club, with Daphne and Threx as my wedding present, or… everyone you love dies, and I’ll take you, anyway.” She shrugged, as if she had already won and this was beneath her.
“I will marry you, shape your men into actual, productive members, and even get you off from time to time,” her eyes sparkled.
“But you have to let Daphne and Threx walk. If you do, I will cut all ties with both of them. You know me, Marianne. I am a ruthless son of a bitch, but I keep my word. And if I don’t, you can hang my crew and me on the wall for show.
Deal?” I asked, carving my soul out of my chest and slamming it on the goddamn table.
“I still lose Threx in that scenario!”
“He is a psychopath, and without his co-regulator, all you get is a liability. Even if Daphne swore fealty to you, it only takes one dirty look in her direction for half your men to be dead.”
Crack went my ribs.
“Believe me, you don’t need him!” I continued.
Crack went my soul.
“You are not losing anything but a sliver of your pride. I mean it. Let them be someone else’s problem because you do not want this shit over our marriage. It’s not in your interest for me to hate you. Trust me.”
Marianne went back to twirling her spoon in the empty cup, the plink of the silver against glass hitting the rim, before her attention shifted.
“No,” she said, looking me in the eye. “No one gets out. She swears fealty, or they’re both dead. If not, they all die. That is my choice. What is yours?”
The question wasn’t a question; it was a cage, a noose, a death sentence. I ran the numbers; under Marianne, my men would be alive, but they would be worse people. Running trafficking outfits, drugging sex workers to feed addiction, and losing their freedom to a greater set of chains.
Not a reason.
Marrying Marianne would make me a king, a seat that, if I played correctly, could crumble her infrastructure from the inside, and one day this entire moment would come for her throat.
But only if Daphne were a dog at her table, with Threx leashing her there to the floorboards.
And God only knows what Marianne would do with him when she wasn’t using him to satisfy the pang between her thighs; she would turn him into the worst monster of all. Breaking him completely.
Not a reason.
And me? She’ll take me either way. As her king.
Her fuckboy. Her errand dog, lapping at her table, while she uses me as a warning for all who dare to stand against her.
Her crown would own me, and whatever throne or cell she kept me in would only come with the illusion of power.
She’d keep a rope around my neck until she tired of the game and hang me, anyway.
Not a fucking reason.
If I said no, we would all die, but not as dogs.
As men who made choices and accepted the consequences.
There was dignity in that. It wasn’t pretty, but it did not come at the expense of our souls.
But Daphne wouldn’t. She was in Maine, and with none of us pulling her under, she would finally be free of the dark.
She’d hate it. Her heart might not survive it, but…
if there was a chance, then there was my reason.
I raised my gun and shot both Andrew and Sir Fucks A Lot in the goddamn head, before moving my aim to Marianne. She was so broken that she didn’t even flinch.
“You can have Daphne and Threx,” she was quick to say, throwing her hands in the air in a show of surrender. But I knew better. I’d be dead before I made it off the driveway. “I mean it, Wolfe. We’ll get them out. I will marry you, and your club still lives.”
Liars go to hell, and I prayed she would.
I took a moment, mimicking her slow pause, as if to consider the proposal fully.
“No,” I said with a smirk. “You don’t get my club. You don’t get my girl! Or my fucking monster…” I inched in closer. “And you sure as hell don’t get me.”
She did not get to hurt anyone anymore.
“They’ll come after you. If you kill me, they’ll label you a traitor and hang you on the wall.”
“I’d rather die on my gallows than yours.”
She broke into a sad laugh, and before she could say another word, blood spilled from her mouth, dropping into the teacup in a stream of red.
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
I wiped my eyes and moved to the window, where Jessie waited for me in the slant of the rain. The numbers finally made sense. It was never about what life gives you. It was about what you refuse to let it take. Me. Threx. My men. But most of all, Daphne.
I would never let it take her.
Problem solved.