Chapter Five
CAINE
TWO YEARS LATER
My temples pulsed.
There was no end to the dependency and entitlement. Every day was another dispute to contend with, another request to consider, another obligation to fulfil. The headaches had been chronic this past fortnight, likely due to the unnecessary increase to my workload and the stint of sleepless nights.
Not that my sleep was ever particularly peaceful.
There were six regions in Ailemorth, each lorded over by an elite family, but since my cunt of a father had died, it was now my duty to govern them all.
Each pack leader was in charge of overseeing the districts within their turf—a range of poor, middle class, and wealthy.
They were responsible for the upkeep of their lands, ensuring order, and providing protection to their residents.
A system that had been in place since the dawn of the city’s existence, yet somehow, they were all fucking useless.
I needed a distraction. To kill. To fuck. Anything that wasn’t listening to the woes of every bastard who thought their mouths were for testing my patience. If I read one more account of unrest in a district not within my region, I was going to levy a tax.
One vital body part per every inane complaint.
“I should probably avoid human interaction for the foreseeable. What d’ya think?”
I zoned in to the casual lilt of my brother’s voice, levelling him with an irritated glare. He took it as a question.
“The rash on my taint,” he clarified, though it clarified absolutely nothing. “Doc said it’s a contagious disease. Was asking for your opinion.”
I stared flatly, resisting the urge to massage the throb behind my eyes with a knife. “What relevance does this have to resolving another pack’s affairs?”
“Oh, so you are listening,” he said, a smile on his face that suggested he was close to stabbing me in the throat for ignoring him. If only. “Good to know.”
My brother. My twin. We were nothing alike, except for our features. He was my eyes and ears; the head of my “scout crew,” he liked to call himself.
He was the only one in it.
Aaron Devereux knew everything about everyone.
Primarily because he’d slept with half of the city, but if it got me information, I wasn’t interested in his methods.
He was crucial to the pack, often delivering news to me before my field team could send in their reports.
He was charismatic, and had a knack for weeding out the deepest, darkest secrets from even the most unlikely suspects using only his silver tongue.
If that didn’t work, he put himself to use as my torturer.
He found thrill in getting his hands dirty in any capacity, a real fetish for violence and combat.
I had a squad in charge of training and breaking in new pack members, but Aaron liked to get personally involved.
He envisioned himself as a commander and executioner.
I didn’t oppose him. It kept him entertained.
Gave him purpose. He was knowledgeable on the protocols, regulations, and politics involved with leadership, and offered his advice to me on occasion.
Though he preferred blood and challenging our recruits.
And talking way too fucking much.
“You were clearly boring me,” I said, and he huffed in amusement.
“That’s why they call me the charming one,” he mocked, lounging back in the chair in front of my desk. “Did you hear what I said about the Ashmores?”
The Ashmores. The sixth elite family in order of rank. They were newly stationed to their position, and weren’t yet accustomed to the standards set in place.
It was another inconvenience I could do without.
“Yes,” I drawled. “The second son, whatever his fucking name is, eloped with the youngest daughter of the Krylovich pack and mated her. Now their leader, her mother, wants repayment in flesh.”
I imagined this was much the same as running a circus.
Even with the peace treaty, there was never a shortage of arrogant fools testing the boundaries, and I was the one left to clean up.
It was as if they were aware of the mountain of shit I had coming out my ears, and they couldn’t resist adding their contribution to the pile.
“Can’t you deal with it? Sex and scandal is your forte. ”
“I can.” He shrugged before spreading his arms over the chair back, the picture of relaxation. “Just needed the go ahead, since you’re the big boss and all.”
“Since when has that stopped you before?”
He smirked, his eyes twinkling in the unhinged way of his. “True.”
The six regions were attributed to the six founders of the city.
They’d divided their discovery evenly, each taking a portion of the bounty.
There was an accord, but over the years, land changed hands, bloodlines died out, and the next high-status family in the region would step up and take their place as an elite.
Or in cases of deposition, the pack responsible would stake their claim. If they were suitable.
The Devereux pack was the only founding family to have remained from the beginning, having countered every attempt to overthrow us.
We had the purest lineage, and were the wealthiest in terms of money, resources, and power—all of which we’d accumulated over centuries.
For that reason, we were unofficially regarded as royalty.
It was an unspoken sentiment, while every elite pack had their own hierarchy—a leader plus their own sense of nobility over the masses—we were superior due to our original stake in Ailemorth.
We had the means and influence to rip out entire lineages in a heartbeat.
We were feared and respected, and my name was whispered throughout society like an urban legend, my presence often regarded with greater significance than the Grim Reaper’s.
Since the era of my great-great-grandfather, the head of the Devereux pack had been known as the supreme leader.
It wasn’t a lawfully recognised title, but it was upheld as if it were gospel.
My verdict was final, but that authority wasn’t always a blessing.
“Anything else?” I asked, eager to conclude our meeting. “Or does another incompetent prick need their arse wiping for them?”
Aaron considered it before his face lit up with recollection. I dreaded to think. “That Alpha who tried dodging his two mill debt is in the basement,” he said, barely containing his excitement. “Would you like to take care of him, or shall I?”
The idea was appealing, venting my frustrations on a rich man who’d requested protection for an event, then tried fleeing the city instead of paying his dues. His blood would ease the tension winding me up like a cheap watch, but the stack of paperwork on my desk demanded my attention.
“All yours,” I proffered begrudgingly. “As a treat for handling the Ashmores’ bullshit.”
My brother placed his hand over his heart, and sniffed exaggeratedly.
I vaguely wondered whether he felt anything beating under there.
“You are good to me. I saw this method in a book: you slather their cock and balls in honey, then release a colony of fire ants, and . . . well, you can only imagine the pain. I’m dying to try it. ”
I hoped he could sense the degree of my disapproval. “You’re a sick bastard.”
“And that’s why I’m the fun one.”
A knock sounded at the door, and without pausing for an answer, my assistant, Torin, hurried inside. Judging by his dishevelled appearance, he’d arrived late.
Again.
“I have a letter for you, sir,” he chirped, his faint Irish inflection surfacing over the r’s.
“Tory, baby,” my brother purred, spreading his legs wider. He tapped a beckoning rhythm against his thigh. “Been a while, my delightful little fox. Why don’t you come sit in my lap and we’ll talk about the first thing that pops up?”
The visceral reaction sweeping over me might’ve lowered my lifespan.
Was flirting a killable offence?
Torin blushed, setting the letter on my desk. “I have work to do.”
The word “work” was used lightly.
Aaron bared his teeth in a feral smirk. “You could do me instead.”
“Torin,” I bit out. “Leave.”
He swallowed thickly, bowing his head before scurrying out of the room.
I aimed my agitation at my brother.
“What?” He clasped his hands at the back of his head, smugness radiating from him in thick, tangible waves. “I’ll get a taste of that tight hole one day. Just you wait.”
Most likely, I thought to myself. He had a reputation to uphold.
Though, after how often Torin had already offered up his cunt to me as a cock sleeve, I doubted he’d be that tight.
“You think his pubes are ginger too?” Aaron carried on in my silence.
They were.
I ignored his attempts at provoking me, and peeled open the envelope. It wasn’t until the note inside was between my fingers that a scent I hadn’t encountered in two years invaded my nostrils. The Den of Paradise. The desperate reek of the place even clung to paper.
Why the fuck was Finn sending me a letter?
“Anything major?” my brother asked, having observed my pause.
I unfolded the paper, scanning the messy script.
Need to see you. It’s urgent.
“I have somewhere to be,” I declared, tucking the note in my jacket pocket. I stood from my chair, adjusting my shirt.
I would’ve sent an agent, or my brother, but there was an implication in those two sentences that couldn’t be brushed aside. Whatever issue had arisen, it was for my attention, and my attention alone.
Why hadn’t he called?
“I trust you’ll behave in my absence?” I said, an undertone of warning. “If you could leave my assistant to get on with what he’s paid to do, I’d appreciate it.”
“No promises.” He grinned. “Might even fuck him on your desk.”
Nothing he hadn’t experienced before.
“What was so important I had to come here personally?” I announced, startling Finn in his place behind the counter. The lobby hadn’t changed.
It still stank.