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Alliances And Bowl Of Forbidden Fruit
~JAYCE~
"I'm running out of paintbrushes, Ronald."
Leaning against one of the pole structures in the room, my eyes continued to watch Neo's blood craft as he continued to paint probably the biggest piece he'd done in a good fucking while.
There was no denying the fact that this artwork would sell within ten seconds, or maybe he'd even put it up for auction. He liked reserving an auction for special occasions, but from the way Neo had been in such a happy mood since starting his first session, I had a good hunch that he'd go along with it.
The metallic stench of blood cloaked the room like an invisible plague, but you didn't need to look far to see the remains of the three officers. Neo hadn't made their suffering too agonizing.
They were alive the entire time, until the very last stroke, but a fifteen-minute session wasn't really anything close to Neo's usual time frame. Each officer got an agonizing five minutes, and since they were going to be dying just as fast, Neo just heightened the pain level to some ridiculous level.
I was sure death was a blessing to them, but I felt not an ounce of pity.
They wanted one of our members to be embarrassed in front of the world before they would kill him in the quietness of the night. They could all go to fucking hell.
My eyes looked to the man standing next to me - Milo Raymond.
He was an unexpected find, to say the least, and Willow was positive he'd be a good ally to have on our team.
She found a mine of gold.
Milo was a fae wolf, one of the rarest types of fae, especially in these parts. Our world didn't have many faes to begin with. There were multiple reasons for it, but the general, obvious one was how sought-out they were.
I could tell why Milo got away with lasting so long. In NYC, the population of colored shifters had dropped significantly since the uprising of Roberto and his pack.
It wasn't to say his pack didn't have a variety of cultures and races, but it was rather clear that blacks and Asians were on the rare side. Some would claim they were a minority in the realms of shifters, but we knew better.
Their genetics didn't handle shifting at all. Many loved to think wolf shifters had stereotypes while other supernatural creatures like dragons, bears, eagles, etc were designated to the cultures that used their representation to pay tribute to their backgrounds.
They had no idea that those very creatures were simply easier for those cultures to populate as shifters. African-Americans had a high population of bear shifters, Asians of dragons, Indigenous people of eagles, and the list went on and on.
It was something brushed under the rug because when you dipped your fingers into race in this world, you'd be left burned and fingerless. To me, personally, I didn't give a fuck what color your skin was, let alone your background.
If you were loyal, could fight, and had a brain bigger than a pea, you were good.
Maybe that was why way back when I used to coach, people enjoyed my teachings. I found the best of the best, not because of what they could do upon arrival to our training center, but because of what they couldn't do. How much willpower did they carry and to what length would they train to be the best of the best?
I'd done so many various things in my life that I'd almost forgotten. Building my car collection and empire in the realms of business during the day, and beating the crap out of the competition and teaching others to defend themselves at night had consumed me.
My life was rough, like the others’. I’d been deserted for being far too weak to appease a family that wanted perfection. I’d fallen in with the wrong crowds and various gangs. It was the ultimate motto of survival of the fittest. I had to fight my whole life to fucking exist, and now I was in a powerful chair that made the decisions on who got to rise in this world and who got to continue on their path towards failure.
When I was younger, I held more sympathy in my heart. But losing my ex-mate destroyed that last shard of grace.
I actually hadn't trained anyone for a while. Even when we arrived in NYC and got a few extra security peeps, I gave them the basic run down, like anyone else, and that was it. Why waste time on teaching those who may become pawns in this game of chess?
Milo, however, was different. I could tell just by looking at him that his potential was dangerously overwhelming. I could tell that without his uniform, he looked like a thug trying to make it out of whatever clustered hole he’d gotten himself in.
That he's been fighting to be free, but never got a fucking break in his life.
I could resonate with that, but would I risk letting him join us? No.
Willow clearly saw something, enough for her to gather the guts to ask Dimitris if we could save him.
My eyes moved over to look at our Sweet Beauty, the Beta of our Forbidden Pack, who was quietly sitting on one of the tables - fully entranced by the whole process.
I didn't know if it was because of her life being in a world of darkness, but she was handling everything like a pro. I was sure the others felt the same about that fact. Willow had more layers to herself that we'd yet to unravel and definitely carried a secret or two we may never be able to uncover.
