Who has the bigger limp dick?
Who has more power to gain?
Who has lived longer? Or un-lived in our kind’s case.
Who has something the other wants?
It’s always about feeling bigger and badder than everyone else.
In the end, I always show my fangs are sharper.
And Angelo?
He’s the slimiest of them all.
Always doing fishy deals under the table and using vague details to rope in unsuspecting victims.
Always killing first and doing damage control later. Always using others to carry out the shady bullshit he wants so he is above reproach.
And apparently business is booming, because Angelo and his men are showing signs of over-consumption—the balding hair, the red eyes, the sickly pale skin.
Fucking power hungry worm. He’s the reason our kind has a bad reputation.
“So, you see, we needed to go after him. He broke the rules of his contract and my sources discovered he was hiding out on your territory. You know how it is when you’re locked on prey in the middle of a hunt. Nothing else matters.”
His beady red eyes never quite reach mine. Good. I’d take that as a sign of a challenge.
“Jorge didn’t even notice he had crossed boundaries before he caught up to him.”
I stop drumming my fingers and straighten in my chair. Enough of this shit. Angelo needs to go back to his dark gloomy hole so I can resume business as usual without his slimy eyes trying to spy on my every move.
He may be good at politics, but he makes a shit spy. I know the only reason he decided to come here in person was the hopeof catching a glimpse at my operations. See if he can find a weakness or a way to one-up me.
Not a chance.
I’m secretive for a reason.
“What are you offering as payment?” I growl at him, done with hearing him prattle on.
“I—what?” He splutters, losing his composure.
“For breaking our agreement and killing on my land. What are you offering for your transgression?” I speak slowly and clearly, not hiding the fact that I find him below me and rather stupid.
“I was coming here to offer my sincere apologies. I didn’t?—”
I growl again, cutting him off. That’s it, I’m out of patience. Enough politics for today.
“Send me ten of your blood-bounds and we’ll call it even.” My tone brokers no room for compromise. I’m done negotiating. You have to be hard and direct with this prick. He likes to wriggle his way in if he thinks there’s room. No fucking way that’s happening.
“Ten! That worm was barely worth two!” Angelo’s outraged cry makes my eye twitch.
My fists clench with the need to slam into his face and break his jaw, but I refrain. Barely.
“Ten,” I repeat, voice cool and collected. “I want them here by Friday. And I’ll even let your two side muscles walk out of here unscathed. That’s a generous offer, Angelo. I urge you to take it.”
Angelo opens his mouth to no doubt object, again, when the bell above the front door rings, signaling the arrival of new comers. Except no one ever uses the front door. No one except a certain pretty flower who has now shown up twice soaked to the bone.
All heads snap up as the fresh scent of humans fills the small space, overtaking the smell of pizza and cleaning supplies that usually permeates the air.
