Chapter 24 #2
Kazimir spoke next. “You must obtain fealty from all pack Alphas immediately. None would dare challenge you.”
“If you lose, Savannah gets safe passage to wherever she wants. That’s my guarantee.”
Lucia’s eyes snapped to mine. “He won’t lose,” she said, her tone not entirely reassuring.
“Declan will try to cheat,” I said. My voice didn’t shake. “He doesn’t know any other way.”
Kazimir spoke again, this time directly to me, voice low and elegant. “My daughter tells me your mate is worth a thousand King Dominics. We will provide additional security. Discreet but effective.” He eyed Menace. “You have my word as vampire sovereign of the East.”
Menace nodded, solemn. “Thank you.”
Rafe drew another circle on the map, this one farther out. “Once we’re on the property, everyone sticks together. Council’s put us all in the same wing—no splitting up, no wandering. Challenge is at dusk on Wednesday. Basically gives us two days.”
Juliet flicked her eyes up from the tablet. “And you’re sure Dominic will play it straight?”
Bronc answered. “No. But if he doesn’t, the repercussions will be biblical. This is a trial by blood, not by lawyers.”
For a moment, no one spoke. The only sound was the tap of Lucia’s nail against her glass and the almost imagined thrum of jet engines in the distance.
Menace’s fingers slid from my shoulder to the back of my neck, a motion so subtle only I would notice. He leaned in, lips brushing the shell of my ear. “You okay?” The question wasn’t for now, but for what came next.
I nodded. The bond between us was a live wire, bright and thrumming, but beneath it was the certainty that I would rather die than let him walk into this alone.
Kazimir said, “And if anything happens, my people are authorized to kill on sight. No questions. No witnesses.”
The meeting wound down after that; the plans distilled into a single sheet of paper, signed by Bronc, Rafe, and Kazimir. They left us alone in the room for a few minutes, the silence as thick as sleep.
Menace pulled out the chair next to me and sat, body turned to face mine. “I’m ready.”
“I know,” I said. “I just wish I could do it for you.”
He gave a soft laugh. “If it were up to me, neither of us would be doing this.”
Lucia stretched and then rose from her chair. “I need to find coffee. Or something stronger.” She looked at Menace. “Try not to get blood on my shoes, okay?”
He grinned, teeth flashing. “No promises.”
Juliet closed her tablet and snapped the case shut. “Come on, Savannah. Let’s go pack.”
As we left the room, I looked back once, saw Menace alone at the table, tracing the red lines Rafe had drawn with the tip of his finger. He looked like a man studying the pattern of his own veins, trying to find the artery that would let the pain out.
Outside, the halls were already emptier than before. The world had shifted again, and we were moving with it, hurtling toward a collision none of us could escape.
But for the first time since this nightmare started, I felt something other than dread. It was hope, raw and sharp, and it left a taste in my mouth that lingered long after we’d left the building behind.
The estate looked like something out of a rich man’s fever dream: three stories, limestone front, lights blazing in every window even though dusk was still thickening the sky outside.
Our driver pulled through a set of iron gates, up a drive so long I wondered if the house would ever materialize.
As we rounded the last bend, the headlights swept over a line of cars—some black SUVs, others that looked like they belonged in a war zone.
Beyond them, the mansion loomed, squat and watchful.
Even from the curb, it radiated a kind of patient peril.
Menace led the way inside. The front doors were heavy oak, ancient and iron-banded, and they swallowed us one by one into a foyer bigger than most people’s entire living spaces.
The floor was black tile, polished to a mirror, and every step echoed forever.
In the middle of the foyer, Arsenal and Doc waited—both in jeans and t-shirts, both looking like they’d never been further than five feet from a loaded firearm.
“Menace, you old bastard,” Arsenal said, clapping him on the back so hard the sound rattled the chandeliers. “Can’t leave you alone for ten damn minutes.”
Menace grinned, the first genuine smile I’d seen on him in days. “I move fast for an old guy.”
Doc shook his head. “We got bets running through the pack. Half the guys think you’re gonna snap Dominic in half. The other half think you’re gonna literally tear him limb from limb.”
Arsenal elbowed Doc. “The money’s on you, man. Nobody wants to see the pussy king win.”
Menace’s hand found mine, gave it a squeeze. “That makes all of us.” He nodded toward Bronc and Rafe, who trailed in behind us. “You bring the whole circus?”
“Couldn’t leave the pretty people at home,” Bronc said. “Besides, they wanted front row seats.”
The reunion was fast, loud, and obscene in its familiarity.
For a while I stood off to the side, watching the choreography of brotherhood: the shoulder slaps, the hugs that were closer to wrestling holds, the way even their insults were stitched through with something like love.
Juliet joined me, arms folded, eyes scanning the crowd with practiced indifference.
She caught me staring at Menace, then at Arsenal, then back at Menace.
“They’re a different breed,” she said, not unkindly. “Like a litter of dogs that never grew up. But nobody better to have by your side in times of trouble.”
Lucia drifted over, glass of vodka in hand, and shrugged. “At least they’re loyal. Most men are not.”
The house was too warm, the air dry and scented with lemon oil and the faint metallic note of spent adrenaline.
I felt the sweat bead under my collar, but it was nothing compared to the chill that crawled my spine every time I caught a glimpse of the long hallway that led off the foyer.
The shadows there moved wrong—too fast, or not at all.
I wondered if anyone else felt it, but the men were too busy with their rituals, and Juliet was busy pretending not to care.
Wrecker appeared next, arms crossed and smile wide enough to unhinge his face.
He punched Menace on the shoulder, then glanced at me.
“Hey Savannah.” I nodded. He looked at Menace, then back at me.
“I know we don’t know each other well, but he’s talked more about you than he’s ever talked about anyone.
Never said you were this pretty, though. ”
I managed a weak smile. “He lies a lot.”
“Not about this,” Wrecker said, and there was something so genuine in his eyes that it hurt to look at him for too long.
The dining room was set like a funeral feast: enormous table, candelabra at the center, enough food to feed a pack of wolves.
Doc ushered us in, then poured wine into heavy crystal goblets.
The men took their places—Bronc at the head, Juliet to his right, then Arsenal, Big Papa beside him.
Menace was to Bronc’s left, then me, Lucia, Wrecker, and Doc.
Lucia was a nice block against all the testosterone that was flowing. Rafe took his place at the other head.
At first, the talk was all business. Arsenal mapped out the plan for tomorrow—wake at 0500, gym, then breakfast, more strategizing with Rafe and his team, then transport to the arena.
Menace would fight Dominic at dusk, alone in the ring except for the Council witnesses and the cameras.
There were big screens that flanked the arena, so everyone who watched got a bird’s-eye view of the carnage.
If, Goddess forbid, he died, the rest of us were to run, not look back, and never speak of this day again.
“Don’t die,” Arsenal said, voice flat. “I don’t want to have to lie to your old lady.”
Menace grunted. “I’ll do my best.”
I didn’t say it aloud, but I told myself, if he dies, I die too. There was no life without my fated.
The men ate, piling their plates high with steak and bread and potatoes. The food was good, but none of them seemed to care. I picked at my meal, appetite gone, and watched the way the room seemed to close in around us, the dark outside pressing against the windows like a second skin.
After a few minutes, the tone shifted. The stories started; some funny, some ugly, all true.
Wrecker told about the time Menace talked a suicide bomber out of detonating, only to knock him cold and handcuff him to a light pole.
Doc recounted the time Menace took a bullet to the thigh and kept running, dragging three men to safety while cursing the whole way.
Even Big Papa chimed in, voice deep and sonorous, telling how Menace once held a dying teammate’s hand for five hours, not leaving until the body was cold.
The men laughed, sometimes too loud, sometimes not loud enough. They talked about pain like it was a badge, about fear like it was a joke they’d all heard, but no one quite remembered the punchline.
I watched Menace, saw how the stories softened him, how the lines in his face smoothed, how the anger faded to something almost gentle. For a while, I let myself believe this was a normal night, that tomorrow would be another day, that men like him got to live forever.
When the meal ended, the men drifted into the living room, voices dropping to low, urgent murmurs. Juliet disappeared with Bronc. Lucia vanished, probably to hunt something in the woods. I lingered, not wanting to leave, not wanting the night to end.
Menace caught my eye from across the room. He moved to me, silent as a ghost, and took my hand.
“Come with me,” he said, and I did.
He led me to a side hallway, away from the others, down a corridor lined with portraits of people who looked like they’d never known happiness. At the end was a sunroom, the glass dark and streaked with rain. He closed the door behind us, then turned and put his arms around me.
“I’m not afraid,” he said. “Not anymore.”
I buried my face in his shoulder, breathed in the scent of him—cedar wood, smoke, and home. “Then neither am I.”
He kissed the top of my head.
I looked up at him and saw the way his eyes glowed gold in the dim light. “I wish I were half as strong as you.”
He laughed. “You’re stronger. You’ve survived worse.”
We stood there for a while, not moving, just feeling the world tilt and shift around us. For the first time, I thought maybe we could win. Maybe the universe wasn’t always rigged in favor of the monsters.
When we went back to the others, the men were already heading up to their rooms. When they saw us, Big Papa stopped and grabbed our hands. I was moved beyond measure when he quietly prayed for Menace.
Outside, the wind picked up, rattling the old glass in its frame.
If tonight was our last night together, we were going to go out with all the passion we could muster. When we got to our room, I grabbed his face in my hands and kissed him like there was no tomorrow.