Page 53 of The Reaper's Vow

“Speak of the devil,” the blonde woman says.

Now I place her—Vanessa Holt. Only daughter of the Summit Pack out Upper Plains. She’s a small fish in a very big pond, playing the intermediary for Lockhart.

“Vanessa Holt. You’re a long way from Summit territory. Does your father know you're playing errand girl for Thomas Lockhart?”

Her expression tightens, telling me I've hit a nerve. Good.

“The Reaper,” she replies, recovering quickly. “A long way from your master's compound. Does Anselm know you're here alone?”

I step closer, enjoying how the business owners shrink back.

“I don't need backup to handle traitors. Unlike Lockhart, who sends his pets to do his dirty work.”

The man in the suit steps forward, trying to appear unafraid despite the stench of terror rolling off him. “This is a private business meeting. You're trespassing.”

I laugh, the sound echoing coldly through the abandoned warehouse. I turn to the business owners. “Did these two explain what happens to those who break agreements with the Bellandi family?”

“Empty threats,” Vanessa cuts in. “Anselm’s empire is crumbling. Everyone knows it.”

“Is that what Lockhart told you?” I move closer, my hand never straying from my weapon. “Is that why he sent his lapdog instead of showing up himself? Because he's so confident?”

The business owners exchange nervous glances. It's almost amusing how little they understand the world they're playing in.

“Let me make this simple for all of you,” I say, addressing the business owners directly. “You have exactly one chance to walk out of here alive. Leave now, return to your businesses, and forget this meeting ever happened. Anselm might even be merciful.”

“And if we don't?” Richard challenges.

“Then I'll deliver your heads to Anselm as an example to others who might consider switching allegiances.”

The brewery owner is already backing toward the door, survival instinct overriding whatever financial incentives Lockhart offered. “I'm out. This isn't worth dying over.”

Smart man.

“You can't just threaten people like this,” the apothecary woman protests, though she's also inching toward the exit.

“I'm not threatening anyone,” I reply calmly. “I'm explaining the consequences. There's a difference.”

He hesitates. “Bellandi's bleeding us dry. We can't?—”

“You can't afford to die either,” I cut in. “Go home, Richard. Kiss your human wife and wake up alive tomorrow.”

His face pales as my words hit home. The mention of his wife—his human wife who has no idea what world her husband operates in—is the final push he needs. Without another word, he turns and follows the other business owners toward the exit.

That leaves me alone with Lockhart's representatives. The dynamic in the room shifts immediately. Vanessa straightens, her wolf finally surfacing enough that I can sense her power.She's stronger than I initially gave her credit for—not alpha material, but beta at least.

“Impressive show,” she says, clapping slowly. “But empty threats won't save your boss when Lockhart makes his move.”

“What move?” I step closer, noting how the suit takes an involuntary step back. “Sending shitty accountants to poach businesses? That's hardly a declaration of war.”

Her eyes flash golden at the insult, canines extending slightly. Good. Angry wolves make mistakes.

“You have no idea what's coming,” she snarls. “The old ways are dying, and Lockhart represents the future.”

“The future?” I laugh, genuinely amused. “Thomas Lockhart is a third-generation nobody who inherited daddy's territory and thinks that makes him a player.”

“He's alpha enough to take everything Anselm holds dear,” the suit interjects. “Starting with his precious heir.”

My wolf surges forward with murderous intent. “What did you just say?”