Page 22 of Property of Mako (Kings of Anarchy MC: Louisiana #1)
Invitation into Hell
Mako
Haidyn was waiting for me at the far corner booth of the club we used when we didn’t want to be overheard—low light, high bass, and too much smoke for human eyes to see clearly.
He looked like sin in a tailored black suit, his blond hair slicked back, the faint shimmer of his demon aura making the air around him feel charged.
“Been a while, brother,” he greeted, smirking as if we’d just met for a drink instead of to discuss breaking into one of the most dangerous supernatural gatherings in existence.
I slid into the booth. “I take it your witch is in?”
His smirk deepened. “Octavia’s always in—for me.” He leaned forward, lowering his voice. “She’s not thrilled about this, but she’ll make it happen.”
Octavia arrived like she owned the place, her presence snapping heads around. Power clung to her like a second skin—long strawberry-blonde hair, lips painted the shade of blood, pale blue eyes that glittered like frost and fire at once. She didn’t waste time on greetings.
“Haidyn popped into the location you gave him. He told me which wards were used,” she began before she pulled a small suede-wrapped packet from her pocket. “You need this to get in.”
Carefully, she placed it on the table before us, untied the leather thong, and unrolled the suede. Inside was a small glass vial sealed with red wax. She held it out and I took it from her.
“What do I do with it?” I asked as I studied the nearly black liquid. As I tipped the small jar, there was a deep iridescent red flicker that showed itself.
“The paper has the symbol you’ll need to paint on the palm of your hand with the potion to get past the veil to enter the auction. Call it an exclusive ‘invitation.’ And don’t you dare say where you got it if this goes bad.”
“You have my word,” I promised.
“That invitation only works with that specific potion. There should be enough in there for four of you,” she said as she motioned to the potion I held in the palm of my hand. “Don’t spill it or waste it. It would take me more time than you have to gather the ingredients to make more.”
“Understood,” I assured her.
“You are not going to be able to wage war in there. The attendees are not mere Covenant enforcers. They are the most dark and powerful of all the creatures that live on our side of the world. You will be able to get in, retrieve the girl, and get out. Stealth will be your friend, not force,” she warned.
My brows pinched in the center as that didn’t sit well with me. I swore this time Thane would be mine and the rest of those devious fucks would burn. Then there were all those innocent young girls that were being held along with Lily. We had no idea how many there actually were.
“I—”
“She’s not kidding, Mako This is a battle for another time.
You need to accept that you cannot save the world any more than you could save your sister.
Some things have to be allowed to run their natural course.
Worry not; several of them have debts that I will be collecting soon,” Haidyn explained with a dark smirk.
“This is for your woman. It’s on the house,” Octavia quietly added as she slid another vial across the table. The pale blue liquid had little dark bits in it that I wasn’t sure I wanted to know about.
“How do you know I have a woman?” Unease settled in my chest.
The arch of one slender brow, paired with a knowing smirk, was my reply. Instead, she imparted this advice, “She’s going to need it. With who she is, you can’t expect her to waltz in there and have no one recognize her. Hell, they’d smell her before she showed her face.”
For a heartbeat, I pressed my lips flat. “Thank you,” I begrudgingly replied, knowing she was absolutely correct. I’d been trying to figure out how I was going to get Lyra to stay behind short of tying her up.
“Good luck. You’ll need it,” she somberly murmured.
* * *
By the time I stepped back out into the night, the weight of the suede-wrapped vial in my jacket pocket felt heavier than lead. The plan was already in motion—Crypt Keeper, Spook, and Dexter were on board. Lyra would come, but not as herself.
She didn’t like the idea at first.
“You want me to what?” she asked, crossing her arms as I explained the role.
“Dexter’s pet,” I said bluntly. “Humans are allowed in, but only as property. You’ll be marked as his. No one will touch you unless they want to challenge him. Which they won’t.”
Her eyes burned with defiance, but I saw the calculation there too. She wanted in, and this was the only way.
“Fine,” she bit out through clenched teeth.
* * *
When we rolled up to the rendezvous point outside New Orleans, we looked like we belonged there.
I wore a charcoal suit, my hair pulled back, a black shirt open at the throat to show just enough of the ink on my chest to mark me as dangerous without trying too hard.
Lyra wore a black silk dress that clung to her like smoke, her temporarily dyed hair swept to the side to bare the delicate line of her neck.
The potion was painted on each of our palms in the sigil Octavia had drawn—crimson-black strokes that shimmered faintly when the moonlight hit.
As we approached the plantation, the world flickered and shifted.
One moment it was a crumbling, moss-draped ruin.
The next, we stepped through the veil and into another reality—golden chandeliers, velvet-draped halls, and an undercurrent of power so thick it made the air taste bitterly metallic.
The Crimson Auction had begun.