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Stepping away from the wall, Vincent takes the vacant seat next to his nymph partner, not at all intimidated by his lower position than me. Comfortable with the power he thinks he holds over me.

Ryder steps to my side, bristling, his shoulders tensing, readying for a fight. I know exactly how he feels.

“All right, well, now that you’re here, where are the photos? And the men who took them. I’d like to have a private conversation with them.”

“They’re of no consequence. They did their job. What really matters now is,” the silent partner hands Vincent a cell phone and he leers at the screen, “what I’m going to do with these great candids of her and you canoodling on the sidewalk. I’m sure many people would love to see these and know exactly where and when they were taken. Since her relationship with that pretty boy second-class actor ended months ago, the press will be dying to know who the pop star Alexandria’s new beau is.”

So, he does know who she really is. I feared as much when she said there were paparazzi here taking her picture. He wouldn’t have brought them in unless he knew they would spook Lottie or if they had a purpose. Vincent doesn’t do anything without purpose.

“And I suppose you want me to sign over my land to you in exchange for those photos,” I bite out in a terse, clipped tone.

What I wouldn’t do to sink my jowls into his neck and rip him to shreds right here on the pristine marble floor of my office. Donna would kill me for staining the area rug she so tediously picked out, though. She’d get over it, considering the world would be rid of Vincent.

The pompous elf flashes me his fangs and runs a finger down his pointed ear, the many jeweled earrings glinting in the overhead light.

“And that is why I like you, Hunter. Why I need a man like you in my business. You cut the bullshit and get to the point. You’re smart, and you use it.”

My hands ball into fists, and I can feel the skin stretch over my knuckles. Feel the shift squirming under my skin readying to fortify my bones and generate the claws needed to shred through flesh and muscle.

This fucker still thinks he can convince me to work for him. Can blackmail me into it. If I can’t get those photos from him, he may have some leverage for about two seconds. I’m not concerned with those photos making it online. Ginger will have them removed and permanently deleted in less than five minutes.

My concern is not for our exposure or photos on gossip sites. My concern is for Lottie, for the stress and anxiety she’s going through. She’s had her life plastered all over the news and social media for years. Believing the old suspicion that once something is on the internet, it’s there forever. Not with Ginger and her hacker tech heads. People like them are the only reason we’ve remained as concealed as we are today. Sure, snippets of things slip through the cracks, but they are usually grainy, blurred photos that can’t be verified.

No, my purpose is to ease the suffering of my sweet Nightingale. And if ensuring those photos don’t make it to the internet at all is what she needs, then that’s what she shall get. I can deal with his demands for my land in other ways.

“Just hand over the photos, and we don’t have to escalate this beyond a few unfriendly words.”

I make the offer desperately hoping he refuses so I can escalate it beyond words to something involving fists, teeth, and claws.

“Now you know that’s not how this works. If you want the photos, you give me what I want, and they disappear. Never to be seen.”

He flitters his fingers like a bird flying away in the air. Leaning back in his chair, he believes he’s still going to win.

“Not a chance. You stalked, photographed without permission, and threatened Lottie. That’s means for vindication. You’ve crossed the line against one of mine and have no rights here. You’re going to hand over the photos and walk away, leavetown for goodwithoutmy land, or I will take action as is my right.”

Vincent’s chuckle is dark and humorless but amused, not at all taking my threat seriously as one should. A person who’s done all that he has should expect full repercussions. He’s finally crossed the line, and I’m giving him one chance to leave before I lose control.

“She isn’t one of yours. She’s a human, not connected to any non-human here. She’s not part of your pack and doesn’t fall under your jurisdiction as alpha. Nothing I’ve done is against the human laws. I’m well within my rights to photograph anyone on public property and sell those photos to whomever I please.”

My heart drops to the pit of my stomach and sticks in my throat simultaneously. To me, she is already pack. She’s mine. I need to protect her; it’s my duty as her mate to do so. But we still haven’t solidified our bond or married in the human right. She isn’t an official resident of Snowberry or a relative to anyone in town.

Fucking fuck.

I can see it the moment he sees my realization at my slip-up. He knows she’s important to me, and he knows he is technically within his rights still.

“I tell you what. I’ll still give you till next week after your full moon celebration. I’ll come to your house with all the proper papers and all you’ll have to do is sign. Photos will disappear, me and my guys will back off. You, of course, can remain in your quaint little log cabin out there in the woods, but the rest of the land is mine. And when I call on you for something, you’ll answer. Understood?”

I don’t answer. I can’t. He thinks he’s got me on a short leash. For now, I’ll let him think that. I have until next Thursday to take action against him. Somewhere, not in the center of town. Somewhere where no one will question the howls and screams.

A thought occurs to me amidst my raging daydream of breaking Vincent’s legs. Perhaps I won’t have to. If I were to make her mine officially, he would have no rights, and I could take action against him without guilt for breaking our rules. Without fear of retribution from his “employees” and partners. I would be well within my rights.

Clenching my jaw, I allow him to rise and stand. He straightens his cuffs and fingers a strand of inky black hair out of his face like a goddamn runway model.

“Good. Now that we have that cleared up, I’ll be seeing you soon. Maybe I’ll see that sweet little human of yours even sooner.”

My control snaps, and I bolt around my desk at a speed only a shifter possesses. Capturing Vincent in my hands before he has a chance to turn and leave. Shoving him against the wall, I hear a crack, no doubt the drywall behind him or a frame falling to the ground from the force of my strike. I press my forearm against his throat and grip one of his wrists with the other, holding him up just high enough he can only touch the floor with his toes.

I’m sure his partner is behind me attempting to assist. I trust my brother to take care of him, so I don’t bother giving him a microsecond of my time.