Chapter 7 The Shadow #3
I led them to the receiving room near the entrance, the closest room to the door. I wasn’t about to invite them deeper into my fortress when I didn’t know what the hell they wanted.
The three magistrates moved through the room with an unsettling grace, their presence sucking the air from the space.
As I motioned toward the chairs, Eldric remained standing, his icy gaze drifting over the room.
Caladorn sat, tapping his fingers rhythmically on the armrest. Vaelen moved to the nearest wall, trailing a pale hand along the illusion-veiled surface.
“Charming décor,” Vaelen remarked, his storm-gray eyes narrowing as though the illusioned room offended his sensibilities. “Have you ever considered redecorating?”
I ignored the jab. After all, they were not seeing my fortress as it actually stood. They saw what I wanted them to see—a well-crafted illusion to make my home seem as inhospitable as possible and my territory look like an absolute fucking dump.
Tension pricked at my spine, but I kept my voice calm. “What brings you to my estate?”
Eldric clasped his hands behind his back and turned to face me. “We’re here to ensure there are no misunderstandings,” he said evenly. “Particularly misunderstandings that lead to chaos, like those that recently unfolded in Vincenzo’s territory.”
My neutral expression didn’t waver, but inwardly I cursed. So, this was about the so-called feud between mafia lords. “You’re concerned about my territory.”
“Concerned?” Caladorn said with a laugh, leaning back in his chair. “I prefer to call it interested. Your territory has a reputation. One that, frankly, doesn’t align with the standards we expect.”
“And we’re here,” Eldric added, “to ensure it improves. To see you reform and become a productive member of The Below.”
Reform? The word grated against me. Reform was just a thinly veiled command to fall in line, to let them dictate how I ran my territory. Fuck me. This was exactly what I didn’t need right now.
“What the fuck needs to be reformed, if you don’t mind me asking?”
Caladorn narrowed his eyes at me. “For one, you need to clean up your territory. It looks like the pits of hell. It’s no surprise the women of your territory were diseased for so long. Who could possibly live a healthy, long life in these conditions?”
“I’m the mafia lord of this territory, but you are the governing body of The Below.
Do you think the condition of this territory could have anything to do with your blatant lack of assistance?
You allow every fucking mafia lord to kiss your ass and you fund whatever bullshit they throw at you, but because you hate me, we get shit.
Do you think that has anything to do with it? ”
The magistrate had never given me the same support they gave other mafia lords because I didn’t cater to their fucked-up version of governing The Below.
And with my level of power, they always kept a wary eye on me.
My territory was obviously thriving without these assholes’ interference, but there was no way I would allow them to avoid accountability for what they thought they saw. They were a shit government.
A muscle jumped in Eldric’s jaw. “Shadow, if you know what’s good for you, you’d hold your tongue. Whether you like it or not, we will be back, and we expect reform.”
“I see. And what spurred this sudden interest?”
Vaelen turned from the wall, his gaze piercing. “This is what happens when you cause a war for... what reason, exactly?”
So, either no one had told them the real reason behind the conflict, or they were playing coy. I said nothing, letting the silence stretch.
Before they could press further, a low hum filled the air, and I turned to see my father materialize in the corner of the room. His spectral form solidified, his bony hands clasped behind his back as his hollow, sunken eyes landed on the magistrates.
The tension in the room thickened. “Eldric,” my father said, his voice rasping like dry leaves scraping against stone. “Vaelen. Caladorn.”
“Thorne,” Eldric replied coldly. There was no warmth in their history. “I see you haven’t changed.”
“And you haven’t aged,” Thorne shot back with a skeletal grin, his hollow eyes scanning their pristine faces.
Vaelen’s lip curled ever so slightly. “As fun as this is, we aren’t here for a reunion.”
“Pity,” Thorne said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “I’ve missed your sparkling company.”
I stepped between them, my patience wearing thin. “If we could return to the matter at hand,” I said sharply, glaring at my father. “The magistrates were just explaining their interest in my territory.”
“We’ll be brief,” Eldric said. “We expect to see improvements. No more riding on the coattails of thriving territories. Your empire must pull its weight.”
“And if it doesn’t?” I asked.
Caladorn smirked. “Then we’ll ensure it does. We’d hate to have to increase our fee for looking the other way at your endeavors.”
“We’ll return soon to see what progress you’ve made,” Eldric said, his pale eyes locking with mine. “Make no mistake, Shadow. This isn’t a request.”
Without waiting for a response, the magistrates turned and strode toward the door. Vaelen paused briefly, his storm-gray gaze flicking to my father. “You should have stayed dead,” he murmured before following the others out.
The door clicked shut behind them, and I exhaled slowly, tension bleeding from my shoulders.
My father’s skeletal grin remained. “They don’t like you very much, do they?”
“They don’t like anyone,” I said flatly, turning on my heel. “And neither do I.”
I left the room, my mind already racing. Reform. Improvements. They could go to hell.
Problem was, if I didn’t show them what they wanted, they’d drag me there with them.