Chapter 13 Damien #2
Then another voice—one I don’t know. Smooth. Persuasive. “Lockhart’s offer is generous. Twenty percent instead of forty. Better security. No sudden adjustments to your rates.”
“And what’s the catch?” the brewery owner asks. His scent hits me—sweat, nerves, and the sour tang of old beer woven into the fabric of his shirt..
“No catch. Just new management.”
I ease closer, using the shadows to mask my approach.
Through a gap in the wall, I can see five figures huddling around a folding table.
A battery-powered lantern casts harsh shadows across their faces.
The three business owners look exactly like what they are—small-town entrepreneurs in over their heads.
The other two are clearly Lockhart's people, though I don't recognize either of them.
One is a thin man in an expensive suit—too polished, too clean. Outsider. His scent doesn’t belong here; not pack, maybe not even wolf. The other is a blonde woman with cropped hair and an air of easy confidence. I know her face, or maybe her posture. She’s pack, but not one of Lockhart’s.
“What about the Reaper?” the brewery owner asks. “I heard what happened to Marco at the Crimson Howl.”
My lips curl into a smile despite myself. Good. Let them be afraid. Fear is a better deterrent than any contract.
“The Reaper is just one man,” the suit says dismissively. “And Lockhart has resources Bellandi can only dream of.”
I've heard enough. Time to make my presence known.
I step out of the shadows, my boots deliberately heavy on the concrete floor. “Is that so?”
The reaction is immediate and satisfying.
The brewery owner knocks over his chair scrambling backward.
The apothecary woman freezes like prey spotting a predator.
Richard from the auto shop reaches for something under his jacket, but thinks better of it when he sees my hand already resting on my sidearm.
Only Lockhart's representatives maintain some semblance of composure.
“Speak of the devil,” the blonde woman says.
Now I place her—Vanessa Holt. Only daughter of the Summit Pack out Upper Plains. She’s a small fish in a very big pond, playing the intermediary for Lockhart.
“Vanessa Holt. You’re a long way from Summit territory. Does your father know you're playing errand girl for Thomas Lockhart?”
Her expression tightens, telling me I've hit a nerve. Good.
“The Reaper,” she replies, recovering quickly. “A long way from your master's compound. Does Anselm know you're here alone?”
I step closer, enjoying how the business owners shrink back.
“I don't need backup to handle traitors. Unlike Lockhart, who sends his pets to do his dirty work.”
The man in the suit steps forward, trying to appear unafraid despite the stench of terror rolling off him. “This is a private business meeting. You're trespassing.”
I laugh, the sound echoing coldly through the abandoned warehouse. I turn to the business owners. “Did these two explain what happens to those who break agreements with the Bellandi family?”
“Empty threats,” Vanessa cuts in. “Anselm’s empire is crumbling. Everyone knows it.”
“Is that what Lockhart told you?” I move closer, my hand never straying from my weapon. “Is that why he sent his lapdog instead of showing up himself? Because he's so confident?”
The business owners exchange nervous glances. It's almost amusing how little they understand the world they're playing in.
“Let me make this simple for all of you,” I say, addressing the business owners directly. “You have exactly one chance to walk out of here alive. Leave now, return to your businesses, and forget this meeting ever happened. Anselm might even be merciful.”
“And if we don't?” Richard challenges.
“Then I'll deliver your heads to Anselm as an example to others who might consider switching allegiances.”
The brewery owner is already backing toward the door, survival instinct overriding whatever financial incentives Lockhart offered. “I'm out. This isn't worth dying over.”
Smart man.
“You can't just threaten people like this,” the apothecary woman protests, though she's also inching toward the exit.
“I'm not threatening anyone,” I reply calmly. “I'm explaining the consequences. There's a difference.”
He hesitates. “Bellandi's bleeding us dry. We can't—”
“You can't afford to die either,” I cut in. “Go home, Richard. Kiss your human wife and wake up alive tomorrow.”
His face pales as my words hit home. The mention of his wife—his human wife who has no idea what world her husband operates in—is the final push he needs. Without another word, he turns and follows the other business owners toward the exit.
That leaves me alone with Lockhart's representatives. The dynamic in the room shifts immediately. Vanessa straightens, her wolf finally surfacing enough that I can sense her power. She's stronger than I initially gave her credit for—not alpha material, but beta at least.
“Impressive show,” she says, clapping slowly. “But empty threats won't save your boss when Lockhart makes his move.”
“What move?” I step closer, noting how the suit takes an involuntary step back. “Sending shitty accountants to poach businesses? That's hardly a declaration of war.”
Her eyes flash golden at the insult, canines extending slightly. Good. Angry wolves make mistakes.
“You have no idea what's coming,” she snarls. “The old ways are dying, and Lockhart represents the future.”
“The future?” I laugh, genuinely amused. “Thomas Lockhart is a third-generation nobody who inherited daddy's territory and thinks that makes him a player.”
“He's alpha enough to take everything Anselm holds dear,” the suit interjects. “Starting with his precious heir.”
My wolf surges forward with murderous intent. “What did you just say?”
Vanessa's smile turns predatory. “Did we touch a nerve? Poor Reaper, so focused on his new toy that he's missing the bigger picture.”
My hand moves to my weapon, but I force myself to stop. Information first. Violence second. “Explain.”
“Lockhart knows about your little mate,” the suit continues, emboldened by my restraint.
Vanessa tilts her head, studying my reaction with obvious satisfaction. “Karina Greene. Lives alone in a shitty apartment in Eureka. Oh, and she’s your mate.”
My vision tunnels, the warehouse fading except for the two figures in front of me. They know everything. How the fuck do they know everything?
“You see, she wasn't as invisible as you think,” Vanessa continues. “Lockhart has been tracking her and others like her for months. Building a database of potential...acquisitions.”
The word 'acquisitions' makes my wolf howl with fury.
“You're lying,” I growl, but doubt creeps in like poison. How could they know so much about her? About us?
Vanessa's smile widens. “Am I? Then why is your hand shaking, Reaper?”
I glance down, surprised to find my fingers trembling against my sidearm. I force my hand to steady.
“Whatever game you're playing, it ends now,” I say, drawing my weapon in one fluid motion. “Tell me what Lockhart knows and how he knows it.”
The suit raises his hands. “We're just messengers. Kill us, and you'll never get the information you need.”
“I don't need both of you alive to get information.” I aim directly at his head. “One will do.”
Vanessa steps forward, positioning herself slightly in front of the suit. “You're making a mistake. This isn't about territory or businesses anymore. Lockhart is playing a different game—one Anselm doesn't even understand yet.”
“What game?” I demand, my patience evaporating with each second that passes. Every moment I waste here is another moment Karina could be in danger.
“Genetics.”
Ice floods my veins. “What are you talking about?”
Vanessa circles me slowly, confidence radiating from her in waves. “You really don’t know, do you? The big bad Reaper, so focused on taking his prize that he never stopped to ask why she was worth taking in the first place.”
“Stop playing games,” I growl, my finger tightening on the trigger. “What does Lockhart want with Karina?”
“The same thing everyone will want once they discover what she is. Who she is,” Vanessa's smile widens. “Lockhart's just been...patient. Watching her for years while the rest of you remained oblivious.”
My world tilts on its axis. Years? That can't be right. Karina was living a normal life until two days ago. She was hidden among humans, unknown to our kind.
“Why?” The question scrapes from my throat, raw with an emotion I can't name. “Why would he watch her?”
She laughs, the sound like broken glass. “All this time, you thought you found her by chance. That fate brought her to you.”
“Get to the point,” I snarl, my patience shredded to nothing.
“She isn't some random wolf who happened to catch your attention.” Vanessa beams with malicious satisfaction. “She's the daughter of Elena Rosewood.”
Every wolf on the West Coast knows the legend of Elena Rosewood—the only female alpha born in three centuries.
“That's impossible,” I breathe, but even as I say it, doubt creeps into my mind.
“Is it?” Vanessa tilts her head, savoring my shock.
“Elena Rosewood disappeared in 1995.”
“So she did, but did you know her mate disappeared with her? They had a daughter born the following year. A daughter they kept hidden from the supernatural world.”
My mind races, connecting dots I should have seen earlier. Karina's parents' insistence on keeping her from pack life. They weren't just protecting her from pack politics. They were protecting her from wolves who would see her bloodline as the ultimate prize.
“Even if that's true, it doesn't change anything.”
“The daughter of the only female alpha? It changes everything.”
My blood runs cold. “Lockhart will never touch her.”
“He already has someone at the compound,” Vanessa says, her smile widening. “Did you think we wouldn't have allies inside Bellandi territory? People who recognize which way the wind is blowing?”
The warehouse feels smaller by the second, walls pressing in. A raw pulse drives through me—get to Karina, now. I’ve been baited, led off while they move against her.
“You're lying,” I growl, but my wolf knows better. The constant pull I've felt all night wasn't just about protecting Karina—it was warning me of danger. Why the fuck didn’t I realize that?
“It's been...what, two hours since you left her? More than enough time.”
I don’t hesitate. The gun barks twice in my hand, each shot precise.
The suit crumples first, a clean hole drilled through his forehead.
Vanessa manages half a step backward before the second round tears into her throat.
She staggers, clutching at the wound as blood spills hot between her fingers, disbelief etched across her features.
I'm already moving toward the exit when her strangled voice stops me.
“You...can't...save her...”
I turn back, watching dispassionately as she slides down the wall, leaving a crimson smear in her wake. “Who's inside the compound?”
She laughs, the sound wet and gurgling. “It doesn’t matter….you’re…too...late.” The last word slips out as she takes one last ragged breath before she goes still.
I don't wait for her body to cool before I'm sprinting back to my car.
My heart hammers against my ribs like it's trying to escape my chest. Every second feels like an eternity as I tear through the forest, branches whipping my face, roots threatening to trip me.
I don't feel any of it. All I feel is the mark burning on my neck and the rising tide of panic that threatens to drown me.
Elena Rosewood's daughter. The implications crash through my mind like a wrecking ball. If it’s true, she's not just rare—she's practically royalty in our world. A bloodline that could birth the next female alpha, something that happens once in centuries.
No wonder her parents hid her away. No wonder they never told her what she was.
I slam into my car, fumbling with the keys, my hands slick with Vanessa's blood. The engine roars to life, and I'm already accelerating before the door fully closes. The tires screech against the asphalt as I take the first turn too fast, the back end fishtailing before I regain control.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” I growl, pressing the accelerator to the floor. The engine whines in protest as I push it beyond its limits, but it's still not fast enough. Nothing is fast enough.
I grab my phone, dialing Elias with one hand while taking another curve at reckless speed. The call rings once, twice, three times before his voicemail kicks on.”
I try calling again, the phone slipping in my blood-slicked grip as I take another turn. Nothing. Either he's not answering, or something's already happened.
The tether in my chest pulls tight, anxiety crashing through me in waves I can’t tell are mine or hers. Her distress slices into me—sharp bursts of fear that set my wolf howling beneath my skin. She’s in danger. Real, immediate danger.
I floor the accelerator again, the speedometer climbing past ninety as I tear down the winding mountain road. The compound is still twenty minutes away at legal speeds. I'll make it in ten.
I can only hope that I make it in time because if I lose her, I will become something much worse than the Reaper. I will scorch the fucking earth to get her back.