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He’d never planned on hiding the Huntsman forever, had in fact saved him in order to use him against Isa. The gala was the perfect opportunity to do so, and had also been an important part of his plan to get things moving.
It was as Vetle said, Odin was ready for things to begin. After years of sitting quietly on the sidelines, acting like he was fine with having had everything stolen from him, he’d lost his taste for hiding in the dark. It was time to remind his stepbrother why for so many years people had known better than to fuck with the Snow family.
Unfortunately, it was still a long game. As badly as he wished he could just break into the Faraway Mansion and put a bullet between Isa’s eyes, that wasn’t practical. For one, he had that place locked up like a fortress, heavily guarded twenty-four-seven with security cameras covering every nook and cranny. Odin might own most of the police, but even they wouldn’t be able to argue his innocence if there was video footage of him committing the murder. And then the damn Emperor of Sanctum would get involved…
Odin scowled.
Because this was where the Brumal made their home, the Emperor and his family had taken residence on the opposite side of the planet, close to where Odin had found Hunter. Countries had been split and assigned a head Royal, and Kilan Soto’s was a greedy woman more interested in lining her pockets than bothering even to attempt to clean the streets.
She was a tedious, whiny gnat of a person who Odin hated speaking to, but she was certainly a lot easier to handle than an emperor would be.
“Attending with Hunter is going to throw Isa off,” Odin said. “He’ll wonder what I’m planning, what I mean by being there, and with the Huntsman as my date. He might not look it, but he’s an over-thinker. This will drive him mad with all the possibilities.”
“Gaining his attention when we’re so close is risky,” Vetle pointed out.
It wasn’t wise to actively place oneself on a Dominus’ radar, but as one himself, Odin considered it more foreplay than anything. There was risk, of course, but there was always risk, especially for someone like him.
“I want him worried,” Odin confided. He wanted Isa Frost forced to think about him just as he’d been forced to. All of these years, and he was still haunted by what had transpired that day. What Isa had set in motion.
Odin had lost everything all at once.
Isa’s downfall was going to be a bit different.
They’d been raised to be sneaky, manipulative assholes. Really, when he thought about it, Isa’s betrayal shouldn’t have come as such a shock.
And neither should Odin’s retaliation.
“What if he decides to make the first move?” Vetle asked. “If he demands to go up against you one on one?”
“I’ll accept the challenge.”
Vetle didn’t like that answer. “Sir—”
He held up his hand again, silencing him for the second time. Odin knew what he was about to say.
Isa was famous for his strength. The story was that he’d murdered his mother and stolen her power, but Odin had his doubts. Shouts could typically only transfer their power by choice. Very few cases were written down in history of it being successfully taken against a person’s will.
Whether he’d taken it or not, the fact was he’d gotten it, and it’d made him possibly the strongest Shout on the planet. Only Odin was his contender, and that was because everyone believed he’d taken on his father’s powers similarly.
Only a handful of people knew the truth of the matter, and Vetle was one of them.
“I might be able to hold my own against him,” Odin said, opting to be flip about the whole thing. Knowing Isa, it wouldn’t come down to something as straightforward as an open challenge anyway. There hadn’t been one between two Dominus of the Brumal in over a century. “We’ll have to wait and see how this all plays out.”
“I don’t like it.”
“Yes, well, you’re not paid to like things.” He waved toward the exit, dismissing him. “Don’t forget to deliver my RSVP.”
Vetle hesitated, and Odin felt that irrational irritation from earlier spark anew within himself.
“What?” he snapped.
His underboss glanced over his shoulder at Grind, and Odin realized at some point during their discussion, the other man’s pained sounds had halted. “He’s passed out, sir.”
“I’ll wake him up.”
“Or,” Vetle suggested, “you could go and deal with whatever is bothering you. It’s obvious there’s something.”
“I’m fine,” Odin said.
