REAL PIZZA WORK
We’ve got a situation here, Boss. We’re going to need some assistance.
Alek’s mental message cuts through my surveillance. For nights now I’ve shadowed Angelo, trying to understand why he’d waste his goons on my territory—sending a new pack for every one I turn to dust.
Clearly, he wants something, and I must have it, but what that is? I haven’t the vaguest idea.
Which is why I’m watching him now, a worm coiled on a throne while his blood-bound women move around him with dead eyes. I’d rather be anywhere else—even trading insults with the nosy hunter who has been pushing all my buttons.
Your summon could not have come at a better moment, Alek. I’m going to need to wash my eyes out with a strong solution after tonight.
Boss?
Alek’s reply is confused by my projected internal musings, but instead of offering an explanation, I turn to leave, then stop dead in my tracks when Angelo glances my way.
The victorious smirk on his pale lips is all the confirmation I need. It’s a hollow, gutting sensation I haven’t felt in centuries. The wild goose chase, the taunts—it was all a diversion. He didn’t want a confrontation here. He wanted me away from my territory.
Shit.
Giving him one last look that he returns with an insubordinate hand wave, I turn and speed off back towards my headquarters, adding extra speed as I mentally message Alek for more details.
Is my Daisy?—
Angelo’s goons are at her door, Boss. It’s not going to hold. I can get her out the window, but I’m going to need help fighting through the small crowd awaiting us outside.
That fucker planned this!
There’s more, Boss. She smells like the hunter.
That sneaky fucker. I knew he was interested in my delicious-smelling flower, but I hadn’t realized he’d actually be as bold as to leave his scent on her.
My thumb traces the worn edge of the antique pocket watch tucked into my vest. An old habit.
I push my speed to its limits, the buildings, streets, and lights blurring into a meaningless smear. It doesn’t matter; I’m locked onto Alek’s position, the mental connection from his siring pulling me instinctively toward him.
It takes me no time at all to traverse the entire length of the city, and I barely slow when I get to Kallista’s apartment complex, using my blinding speed to surprise the feral pack waiting outside, all sharp claws and elongated fangs.
Angelo sent twenty feral vampires to kidnap my delicate flower.
What the fuck is wrong with him?
Rage overtakes me. I become a blur of claw and fang, ripping through the pack. Corpse powder rains down, the husks of ferals disintegrating into ash around me. Their mindless snarls fill the air as their freakish, blood-fueled strength lands blows that shred my suit, but they lack the logic to make the attacks count. They hit like animals; I hunt like one.
I only slow when I sense a flicker at the edge of my awareness, a faint trace of familiar power, one that usually would make me go on alert, but is not unwelcome in this particular fight.
The hunter has joined the fray, Boss.
A smirk graces my lips, and I know it’s terrifying—my fangs are elongated and stained black with the ashen remains of his kin. The red, glowing eyes of the feral before me widen in alarm, proving my point.
I am aware, Alek.
The two-tone eyed Guild hunter makes a tsking sound beside me.
“Well, well. Seems like you decided to have a party, and I wasn’t invited.” His enchanted blade pierces a feral’s heart, and the creature dissolves. “I’m disappointed, Livingburn, I thought we were friends.”
A scoff escapes me. The tattooed asshole has a certain lethal confidence I can’t entirely dismiss.
You’re going soft, Stark.
