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The door opened and a woman entered with her head already bowed. Her long dark brown hair was pulled into a high ponytail, and the inky suit she wore was impeccably tailored to fit her. There was an edge to her, an air that screamed poised and ready. Whatever she was ready for though was a mystery. Probably nothing good. Her eyes never strayed from her feet.
“Sir, Mr. Shen is here and requesting an audience,” she said evenly.
“Tell Wren I’ll be right there.” Odin waved her away and she turned and exited just as quickly as she’d entered. He eased Hunter off of him so that he could remove himself. “Save the excuses, Huntsman. There will be time for them later.”
Hunter searched Odin’s expression, but it was shuttered. The familiarity of it almost had some of the tension between them easing. Almost.
Odin made sure Hunter was lying back down and tucked in comfortably before he opened the drawer to the dresser and pulled a syringe and a small vial out. When Hunter inhaled sharply, he tsked down at him.
“Relax, this is just to help you sleep. You’re not nearly as healed as you think you are—you’re welcome for that too, by the way. I bet you’re too hopped up on pain meds right now to even realize just how extensive your injuries are.”
That was true. Hunter could barely even feel his body, let alone any hint of discomfort. He didn’t know why Odin had saved him and was going through all this trouble to heal his injuries, but he was positive grateful was not an emotion he should be feeling toward him.
“Why are you doing this?” he asked, the sound grating to his ears, words crackly at best.
Odin paused, pretending to think it over. It was all a pretext, though; it was clear what he said next was something he’d planned on saying for a while. “Because I don’t like when other people break my things?”
There was a lot he wanted to say back to that, but he wasn’t given the chance.
Hunter didn’t even feel it when the needle slid into his arm, but a moment later, his eyes started to droop, and a wave of exhaustion hit him.
“There you go,” Odin said, his voice growing distant with every passing second. His face above him blurred. “Sleep now. The sooner you get better, the sooner the fun can begin.”
He should have just died in that warehouse.
It would have been a thousand times better than whatever Odin Snow had in store for him, that was for certain.
Chapter 4:
Odin should have killed him on the spot.
He scowled as he made his way down the hall, passing through the empty corridors of the upper levels of Club Cherry. These were his private rooms, where no one was allowed unless he invited them. For over three weeks now, that meant they’d remained barren.
He hadn’t wanted to risk anyone getting too close to Hunter for multiple reasons. The first being that he hoped to keep his being here a secret for the time being. The second out of fear someone might do something to interfere with his healing. When Odin had found him, he’d been bloodied and dirty, covered in piss—both his own and someone else’s.
Several doctors had looked over him and had suggested he keep Hunter in a sedated state while his body mended itself. Business as usual had continued, but Odin had spent more time than he should have holed up in that room, watching over the boy who’d helped destroy his life all those years ago.
Hunter Thorn was not innocent.
So why did Odin hate seeing him so broken?
He hadn’t even realized he’d been using his powers to soothe Hunter until it’d been too late. The second he’d rested the other man against his chest, had felt the chillness of his skin, his magic had activated as if of its own accord.
It wasn’t the first time. He’d been doing it since bringing Hunter here. But at least before no one had been privy to it. This time Hunter had been awake. He had to have felt it. Had to know…
He shook his head, silently cursing himself as he made his way down the iron steps that led to the door attached to his study. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered but his revenge. That’s what he needed to focus on.
Too distracted to bother with regarding the sentries, Odin yanked open one of the heavy doors himself and slipped inside. He’d entered on the opposite end of the room from the main entrance which would have led him through the upper levels of the club, stepping out onto the partial second floor that encircled his office.
Below, he spotted Wren sitting in his usual spot facing the fire, a half-empty decanter of amber liquid in his hand. Jita was at the end of the couch, but unexpectedly there were two others on the opposite side.
Vetle and Taji, both of similar build and far more overdressed than either Odin or Wren, ironically.
When Odin had first returned to Ovid, the capital of Kiland Soto, he’d only been able to successfully reclaim his title of head of the Snow family with the help of Wren. Because the two of them joined forces and formed a lasting truce between their two families, they were able to stand against Isa. It helped that the Police Commissioner was on Snow’s payroll and had been since the start of his career.
The three had developed an odd sort of “harmony” over the years since. A clear “you don’t touch me, I won’t touch you” sort of unspoken understanding. It didn’t always hold true, but for the most part, they’d stayed out of one another’s way. There was the occasional scuffle, the planted spies, and the expected toeing of the line to deal with, but never anything that could be considered a call for all-out war.
A lot of that was due in part to both Vetle and Taji, whom Odin and Wren had taken on as their underbosses, respectively. Vetle had held the position since the beginning of his reign, but Taji was fairly new to it, going on about three years or so.
