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He slammed his office door shut behind him, and his new assistant looked up from her computer, took one look at his face, and ducked her head down behind her computer, nothing showing but the top of her high ponytail. He curled his lip at her as he stormed past without a word, heading for his private elevator. She wasn’t going to last any longer than the last three assistants HR had sent him.
Not for the first time, he wished Marge hadn’t retired. She’d been his dad’s assistant before Quinten took over Amato Imports and stayed with him for years, providing a steadying hand as he’d taken the business his dad had left him and expanded it. And then expanded again into… less conventional areas.
And less legal.
Definitely less ethical.
Mafia… adjacent.
Marge may not have known all the things he was doing, but she never questioned him, never feared him, and never needed extra directions. Hell, half the time, she’d known what he needed before he had. If he hadn’t known for certain otherwise, he would have sworn she was a seer.
And now, he was stuck with these young, terrified assistants who could barely last longer than a fiscal quarter.
Stepping into the elevator, he didn’t react as a large man joined him, seeming to appear out of nowhere. As soon as the mirrored doors shut, Darius raised his scarred brow at him in the reflection, letting him know the wolf had overheard his phone call with Morde.
“We may need to make arrangements if Kincaid and his people are going to keep sticking their noses in our business,” Quinten said, keeping his eyes forward and watching the numbers fall as they descended.
Darius’s mouth twitched, and Quinten sighed.
“Just say it.”
“He has a lot of support. Could get messy.” Darius’s voice was low and raspy, stating what they both knew. Kincaid wasn’t just some chirpy asshole who didn’t know how to mind his own business. He had the strongest pack on the continent and a lot of allies.
Quinten had no interest in going to war with him.
“I wasn’t suggesting we send Nero to kill him,” Quinten said dryly.
Darius grunted and straightened his shoulders as they neared their destination, the building’s underground garage. He stepped halfway in front of Quinten as the doors slid open. “Make things easier.”
Quinten smiled for the first time since Gabriel’s name had popped up on his phone. Darius’s bloodthirsty nature had that effect on him. “Maybe. It would definitely solidify me as the devil in a lot of people’s eyes.”
“Win-win.”
Quinten chuckled and followed him to where his driver already had the SUV running and waiting for them, Darius having let him know they were on their way down before Quinten even left his office. “We’ll cross that bridge if we need to. Until then, we need to button things up and make sure we’re secure on all fronts in case they decide to try and force my hand.”
Darius opened the back door and stepped out of the way so Quinten could climb inside ahead of him. He paused though, meeting his friend’s stormy eyes. He barely noticed the scar traversing his face anymore, from his hairline through his left eyebrow and down to the corner of his mouth, giving him a permanent sneer and clouding his left eye.
But even with only one good eye, Quinten would never trust anyone more at his back.
“Things are going to change, but we won’t,” Quinten said softly, reaching up to grip the side of Darius’s neck. The fact that the giant wolf not only allowed the touch but leaned into it a little each time always blew him away. The trust went both ways, and that humbled him. “No matter what, our people will stay protected. This is our city, our family.”
“Our pack,” Darius added, earning an exasperated look.
Shifters. They always thought with a pack mentality.
“I’m no alpha,” he said, not for the first time. He gave Darius’s neck a squeeze and then got into the SUV. “But if Kincaid tries to come for us and what we’ve built, he’ll be very, very sorry.”
Darius slid in next to him, patting Alan on the shoulder as soon as the door was closed to let the driver know they were ready to head out. They fell into silence as they exited the garage and joined the millions of others headed home for the evening.
The sun was setting, but Chicago was alive and thrumming all around them, the residents fully thawed from the harsh winter and enjoying every minute of the mild spring weather. Quinten watched the people they passed, thinking about his phone call with Morde and how he’d come to be where and who he was.
Growing up, he’d been just like so many other humans, oblivious to the parahuman world surrounding them. His dad was a successful owner of an import/export business and his mom a cardiothoracic surgeon. He’d grown up with nannies and tutors, but they’d still doted on him, and he’d been secure in his place in the world.
Everything changed when he was eleven.
One day, they were a family, and the next…
His dad left him and his mom three weeks after meeting a woman named Callie. Quinten was so angry, and so was his mom. Neither of them understood what had happened, why they were broken and bleeding. Why his dad had chosen another woman and her son over them.
