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One of his men rushed forward and placed a file in front of him before returning to his post.

Tiberius flipped open the file and shoved a picture across the desk.

On a stone wall was a spray-painted image. The design, a circle with three intersecting blades and a pair of wings in the background.

“My security detail discovered this graffiti on my home this morning. Zion’s calling card, if I’m not mistaken.”

It seemed the temperature in the room dropped ten degrees. The tension between the two powerful men crackled like lightning.

“It is,” Victor confirmed.

“And yet you claim to have this situation well in hand.”

Alex’s heart pounded in her ears. What the heck was going on here? Was Victor being reprimanded? And in front of witnesses, no less. Not that the magister had even acknowledged her presence.Thank God.

Tiberius narrowed his eyes. “I believe you and I have some catching up to do. Your second may stay. Perhapshecan provide me with some insight on the matter.”

Victor dipped his head to Jericho, saying in an icy tone, “Have Alphonse escort your Chosen to the library.”

Eleven

With Alexin Alphonse’s devoted hands, Jericho closed the door. Fingers of unease crept down his spine.

It was unusual for the magister to visit unannounced. Though there was no love lost between Victor and Tiberius, today, the magister’s behavior bordered on hostile.

“Jericho,” Tiberius Steele boomed, his voice overly loud in the confined space. “Victor’s most loyal and trusted warrior. Sit.” He dipped his head to the chair in front of him while Victor lingered near his bookshelves.

Once Jericho was settled, the magister reached into his pocket and tossed him a vial. “Tell me everything you know aboutthis.”

Jericho caught the vial. Black crystals rolled in the slender tube. Tiberius Steele knew exactly what this was. What game did the magister play? “Black ice. It suppresses inhibitions while producing a euphoric high. In its purest form, it’s a black crystal. Diluted, it’s a blue liquid. The more concentrated the solution, the more damage it does.”

“All of this information was presented to the Council,” Victor dared to interject. He stood before the fire, arms folded, flames painting his visage. When Tiberius was elected magister years ago, Victor was far from pleased. For almost a century, the two had fostered a hearty dislike.

“True,” Tiberius conceded. “We were also informed a lycan who, at the time, was operating under your command, stole the drug from its original creator several months ago.”

“Yes,” Victor answered in a clipped tone. “The crime was perpetrated by Daniel McLaren. Nephew of Councilman Thomas McLaren. He and his cousin Teagan were sent here atthe Council’srequest.”

“Quite right.” Tiberius smacked the desk, ignoring the subtle jab. “And this Daniel fellow sold that drug to several buyers. One of them duplicated the formula, creating black ice. I was told you had Daniel in custody. Where is he now?” Again, the magister asked a question to which he already had the answer.

“Dead,” Jericho said. The traitor’s cousins, Teagan and Ronan, insisted on questioning him. During the interrogation, Ronan lost control and killed the bastard. Jericho was the one who’d admitted them into the deviant’s cell.

“I understand you locked him in a high-security cell where he was killed long before he could name his buyers.”

Before Jericho could admit his mistake, Victor interceded. “As Blackwater’s future packmaster, it was Teagan’s right to interrogate the male.”

Tiberius scratched his chin, saying to Jericho, “Lycan politics, they are tricky things.” Next, he turned to Victor. “I hear Ronan McLaren eliminated one of the drug’s buyers. Narrowed the location of the second to a fighting ring, and you, with all your resources, were unable to track the third.”

“The last proved to be rather cunning,” Victor said. “Far more capable at covering his tracks than the others.”

Tiberius scowled. “And now, after all these failures, this drug is being mass produced, the original formula somehow enhanced.” His head swiveled. “Tell me, Jericho, how go your efforts to remove it from our streets.”

Jericho stiffened, growing weary of the cat-and-mouse game the magister played. “We’re making slow progress.”

“Very slow, I’d say. What of this Zion fellow, the one who’s selling black ice? Obviously, he was your third mystery buyer. The one you failed to locate. There was no mention of him in your previous reports, though he seems to be making quite a name for himself.”

“He’s only recently come to our attention,” Victor said. “My sources say he’s the leader of a movement of zealots who believe the underworld should be free of the shadows. He’s using black ice to fund his cause and create chaos.”

Tiberius tapped a blunt finger on the picture. “Given the graffiti painted on my home, he has little respect for those in authority, believing himself above Council law.” His dark gaze gleamed with a predatory light, his words double-edged. “A dangerous notion, don’t you think?”