My wolf reminds me that I can make the camera appear offline rather than removing it from the menu. I put the setting back on, then throw on a heavy-duty password encryption to that video feed and test that it works.
Leticia and I yawn and stretch at the same time. She has loaves of bread in the oven, and I have the peace of knowing that no one will be watching her bedroom.
I hate that I can’t make her safe. But I can watch her.
Two more keystrokes and I lock down their system.
The D’Medicis will have to do a password reset to get it all back online, and given that I changed the protocols and made the system more complex out of habit... It’ll be a long time before they sort out that Leticia’s camera is automatically and permanently locked.
They’ll never be able to detect that I’m here and watching them all. They’ll never know I’m watching her.
My wolf wags his tail in small, brisk whips back and forth. Sleep finally calls us toward bed.
2
ROYAL
THE SAFE AND SCREWDRIVER
The overhead dooris closing as I open the entry door from the house to peer out into the garage, which is empty of the cars that normally occupy the space. “What’s the deal? You took my favorite little pest because we’re doi— oh, okay, so when Mom said ‘something loud’ I thought she meant drilling or excavating, not Valor’s job.”
A male human is tied to an old wooden captain’s chair, which is set on tarps in the center of the garage. He’s unconscious, his thick head of brown hair slumped between his shoulders.
Yesterday a wedding, today a man tied up in the garage. It’s always something.
“I didn’t want to bother your brother when it’s something so simple.” Dad’s chest is proudly puffed up as he admires his handiwork.
“Yeah, I don’t think you remember, but it’s your other son who has a hankering for blood. I’m more of an information-in-the-form-of-computers kid.” I close the door to the house behind me, my nose wrinkling at the scent of blood already thick in the air.
“It’ll be easy,” Dad says, walking over to his tool chest.
Unlike Valor’s, which is full of implements hand selected to cause harm and maim without killing, Dad’s is filled with actual tools, like screwdrivers and shit.
“So what exactly is so simple and easy that we can do it?” I slideon my ratty old sneakers I wear for jogs down the driveway to get the mail.
“We need him to give us the combination to a safe.” Dad grabs a flathead screwdriver out of the toolbox. “I’ll show you how Neil and I used to do it back in the old days.”
My whole body cringes at the thought of what we’re about to do. “Where is said safe?”
“In the back of my truck.” Dad shrugs and approaches the guy, grabbing hold of his hair.
“Why don’t I crack into the safe, and we can save the time torturing the guy?” I walk toward the side door to the garage.
“I already had our usual guys take a stab at it. They couldn’t get through.” Dad huffs. “I’m not that old. I tried the path of least resistance first.”
“But you didn’t come to the kid genius with a massive tech budget who bought some safe-cracking tools last year.” I point out and open the door. The cool late autumn air tickles my skin.
Dad sighs to himself, but I don’t hear any screaming as I close the door, so at least maybe he’s waiting a little bit. I see the rather sizable safe sticking out of the back of Dad’s truck before I even open the tailgate. It’s covered with what looks like concrete, as if it’s been ripped out of the side or floor of a building. But the mechanism on the front is something I’ve been meaning to practice on and most definitely fit for the equipment I bought.
I head back into the garage and find that Dad woke the guy up.
“What safe?” The guy’s eyes dart between me and Dad. “I don’t know anything about a safe.”
“You don’t know anything about the safe that was in the back of your restaurant?” Dad holds the metal of the screwdriver in one hand while tapping the handle against his other palm.
“Dad,” I bark, “I’ve got the tools. Give me five minutes before you start making the body disposal that much harder.”
His eyes cut into me, but he gives me a single nod in approval. With a yawn and a stretch, I cross the garage and head back into the house and down to my lair. The tools are stacked neatly on a shelf in my storage room, waiting for their opportunity to shine.
