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Five of the nest had been sent to their final grave during the Montauk attack, but that left another half-dozen still in Manhattan. The two youngest had slept through the commotion, but by the time I’d arrived the four older ones were standing around in the penthouse salon, sizing each other up.
The jockeying for kapitán had already begun. The coven had the right to select their own leader, but until they did, I wanted someone I trusted in charge.
Brenda, the owner of the building, sidled up to me. “Prince Gabriel.” A long-legged blond vampire, she was hot as hell and she knew it. She slicked the tip of her tongue over full red lips. “I hear you were the one who sent the kapitán to his final death.”
“That’s right.” I eyed the wolf tattoo on the side of her neck. She’d recently made enforcer. “Congratulations on your promotion.”
“Mm.” Leaning closer, she traced a finger down her neck and into her cleavage where her soft white breasts were displayed to full advantage by her skimpy purple dress.
She was either trying to seduce me, or get close enough to stab me with the dagger I was sure she had strapped to her thigh. Either way, I wasn’t in the mood for games. I took her firmly by the shoulders and set her back a few feet.
“Enough. I’m here as the Primus’s representative. Gather the rest of your nest and have them meet me here in ten minutes.”
A slow blink of crystal-blue eyes. “Even the sleepers?”
“Yes. Unless they’re too young to be awakened, I want everyone in the salon ASAP, including Isaac Bajoie.” The other enforcer was on a lower floor, ensuring the safe removal of the enslaved humans.
When she still lingered, I showed my fangs. “Now, Enforcer.”
She straightened. The pout left her lips and I saw the lethal vampire who was the real Brenda. “Yes, sir.”
When the group was assembled—four men and two women—I brought them up to date in a few pithy sentences. “Kapitán Redbone was staked for attacking me. Not only that, he kidnapped my woman and her brother. This entire nest is now under the Primus’s control.”
I sent a hard look around me, daring them to argue. The vampires stared back with expressions varying from respect to sneers, but no one spoke.
“Isaac Bajoie is now the coven’s acting kapitán,” I added. “The nests in Louisiana are being informed as we speak.”
Per tradition, the challenges would take place at the main coven nest just outside of New Orleans, and I had a feeling that Bajoie would toss his hat into the ring.
Bajoie was standing a little to my left. He blinked, then squared his shoulders. “Thank you, sir.”
“Where’s the Primus?” one of the older men dared to ask.
I moved forward, got right in his face. “Taking care of business. That’s all you need to know.”
Bajoie ranged himself at my side, backing me up. The man looked from him to me and gave a curt nod.
“And,” I added, my eyes still trained on the vampire who’d spoken, “this nest is being punished. Your blood slaves are being transferred to a rehab facility as we speak. You will drink only from paid thralls for the next decade, or I will personally see that you all join your kapitán in the final death.”
They didn’t like that. But no one had the balls to openly defy me.
I jerked my chin at Bajoie. “Confine them all to the basement for the thirty days. They’re to be fed only once a week—and no fresh blood. Only blood-wine.”
Let them see what it felt like to be locked in a cell with barely enough nourishment to survive.
That settled, I left Bajoie to finish up and headed to Syndicate headquarters. Something was niggling at me. Logic said that Andre Redbone had been the mole. He wasn’t part of the inner circle, but as a kapitán, he had the kind of access that might have allowed him to circumvent our security.
And yet, it didn’t quite add up…
I worked through the afternoon, tapping into our ultra-secure network to try to prove or disprove that Redbone had been the mole, but came up empty-handed. I even risked a text to my father, informing him that Redbone was a traitor and had been eliminated, but that I hadn’t yet determined if he was our mole.
Father didn’t reply, but then, I hadn’t really expected him to.
Dinner came and went. I was avoiding my talk with Mila, and I knew it.
I got up from my desk and stretched—and stifled a groan. My body had taken a beating these past twenty-four hours. The wounds had pretty much healed, but the silver poisoning had left me stiff and aching.
And I was craving blood again. Even three glasses of blood-wine and the thick slab of rare filet mignon I’d had for dinner had barely taken the edge off. I could’ve called for a Syndicate thrall, but I wanted Mila.
