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Neither would Serafina.
I fold my arms, tightening my core and death-gripping my scent. “I’m not a pass-around omega.”
“We’re talking about playing for keeps.” The Bourg packleader dishes out dominance, trying to put me in my place.
I lift my nose like the queen bee at her own tea party. Never mind the bubbles in my throat. “Talk to me after you win.”
“What if we already have you in the bag?” Red flags wave when his lips slide across his teeth in a dark smile that says the bag is black vinyl, and I’ll leave his den in damp, shrink-wrapped pieces if I don’t obey right now.
My scent glands burn, desperate to prove I’m not prey.
“We’ll be the ones who take the pie.” The packleader in the opposite corner unfolds. A dark-suited, chain-wearing mafia clone who’s grey-haired and old money rich.
Salerno Pack.
They’re much too old to be my mates. But, good news:
Older means easier to kill.
“The girl is unimportant,” the Al Sharin packleader announces over his laptop screen. “Let us make our offer before we discuss rewards.”
“Very well. Straight to business.” Nikolaj swills his drink, clinking ice and oh-so-casually selling off his blood.
Hope I’m worth more than a cow.
The packleaders came prepared with leather folios. Marie collects the offers, then delivers them to Nikolaj with a ninety-degree bow.
While he skims, ice cubes clink and my throat throbs.
During my first sale, packs called out their bids.
Now, the business is more complicated—properties, assets, and favors—and I’m glad the extra admin keeps me in my seat, far away from sticky alpha hands.
“Pack Al Sharin.” Nikolaj shuts the folio, and the room tenses for the king’s decree. “I appreciate your sincerity, but you aren’t the best match for my precious child. We’ll discuss the remainder of your proposal on another occasion.”
“It’s our honor.” The packleader shuts his laptop, and five alphas nod before Nikolaj waves them out.
Four guards lead away the pack that must’ve negotiated a side deal.
I don’t care if they negotiated to take away my firstborn.
Their bail-out drops the body count to thirty.
Halfway there.
“Kitagawa Pack.” Nikolaj thwaps their folio on the coffee table. “Insulting.”
“You reject our offer?” The packleader’s snarl shoves the room energy harder into the red.
I stay still. He’s not snarling at me.
“You thought I wouldn’t notice Kairo’s fingerprints?” Nikolaj huffs. “The Triad is finished, and so is any organization that aids the traitors.”
“Then we’ve wasted our time.” The Kitagawas rise in scary unison.
I cross my fingers he’ll start a gang war and save me some strain, but Nikolaj finger-flicks before he can escalate. “Follow them out of my city.”
Four guards haunt the Kitagawas out of the room, dropping my enemies to twenty-two.
