2. Flint

Most of my office was cloaked in darkness, just as I liked it, apart from two lamps behind me.

The grainy light filtered over my sanctuary while I leaned back in my chair, the squeak as I twisted left and right a reminder I needed a new one, while I stared, unseeing, at a column of figures on my laptop.

Damn, this was a good month at La Luna Noir, or so Emilio told me. I should have been celebrating, but there was an issue, one only I could deal with. More twisting and squeaking as I planted my perfectly shod feet on the soft carpet and slammed the laptop closed, not gaining any satisfaction from the monthly profits.

La Luna Noir. How many times had people said the name was grammatically incorrect? Too many to count. I’d shrug, not caring to offer an explanation.

My grandfather had named the club, because unlike most of the shifters in our pack, he had a father and a mother, instead of alpha and omega dads. They’d arrived in this country from different places. La luna was for her. The moon, bright, shimmering, and stalwart because her mate and son adored her. Noir was for his father, dark and threatening.

My office perched above the club, and the soundproofed walls blocked out the pulsing music from the floor below. Occasionally, I’d wander down via the discrete staircase located at the back of the club, greet the staff, and chat to patrons in the private areas, roped off from the rest of the clientele, or the VIP rooms. Deals were made and signed, not in blood, but verbally for sensitive matters, on paper for the more mundane such as a property sale.

I drummed my fingers on the gleaming desk. Emilio would be here in a minute with the guy. There’d be words, the man, whoever he was, would offer an explanation, beg, cry, and bargain, hoping to avoid his fate. I’d pretend to listen and deliver his punishment. The end.

Emilio was my right-hand man or Beta, though he was never referred to by that name. My people understood his role and the power he wielded, but he answered to me.

Tapping my fingers on the mahogany desk my grandfather bought forty years ago, I wondered why Emilio wasn’t here. I checked my phone, the coded seven-word message of I’ve got a kid to show you on the screen, telling me whoever it was had made a mistake. An employee? Or a patron? I’d heard someone got outta control, but that had been dealt with.

Had this kid been planted by a rival? Was he an undercover cop? Whatever, I’d discover his real identity. Emilio called everyone under forty a kid, so him using the expression gave me no indication of how old he was. Not that his age mattered. He was old enough to know better.

But I suspected the person Emilio was bringing me was a club patron because we did extensive background checks on prospective employees. In the days when my father and grandfather ran the club, employees were family or close associates, but as our business empire expanded—La Luna Noir was one small part—we’d had to look beyond the boundaries of our kin. But the newcomers had low-level jobs, never entering the inner circle.

Shifters controlled the crime syndicates in the city, though the other packs dealt in nickel-and-dime stuff like extortion and loan-sharking. Over the decades those pack Alphas tried to muscle in on our territory, resulting in bloodshed and grief for my family. But I’d put an end to their efforts—for now.

In ancient times, we’d been the fixers for wealthy humans who didn’t want to get their hands dirty, but as the centuries passed, knowledge of our shifter abilities slid from humans’ memories. But our position in society hadn’t changed; humans were still happy to pay us to do their dirty work, thinking we were just like them and naming us “the mafia.”

And we preferred to keep our true identities a secret. Humans didn’t know we were so good at our job because of our wolves. We went from being middlemen to exercising power with strict rules to punish insubordination.

That was the part of the job I didn’t enjoy. It was necessary to keep us safe and because none of my men would pledge their loyalty if I let someone off with a warning or even if Emilio delivered the bruising “treatment” he’d perfected over the years.

Do you want me to deal with him?my wolf asked.

He always offered in these situations, but the instinct buried in his DNA over millennia was to hunt other animals for food, not destroy my enemies. If I asked him to, he would. His loyalty to me was unmatched. No one would ever understand or care about me as my beast did.

Needing something to occupy me, I glanced around the room. I took pleasure in the shelves lined with leather-bound first editions, each one valued at more than the average person’s annual salary. A liquor cabinet in one corner was stocked with spirits, because I’d developed a taste for the finer things in life. And yet I rarely touched the stuff. It was for show, though Emilio was one of the few people allowed into my private domain. Also, I needed to be alert and focused. I couldn’t afford to make a mistake because alcohol made me warm and fuzzy.

My hand went to the pocket watch, bequeathed to me by my grandfather. I was rarely without it and rubbing my fingers over the metal, dented in places, reassured me that no matter what happened, I would survive, even if I too was “dented.” And I was. The early years of my time as Alpha scarred me, in my body and mind.

Moving from the desk, I slumped onto the plush sofa and ran my hand over the fabric. Again, no one ever sat here but me. Emilio would never dare, but surrounding myself with luxury eased the emptiness inside me. Being the boss ensured I was rolling in money. I owned expensive cars, a large house, and a country estate—all of which were too much for one person—I ate in the finest restaurants and had food flown in from all over the world.

But in exchange, I forfeited holidays ‘cause I needed to keep constant tabs on the business and any rivals. My friends were from childhood, as I couldn’t trust a newcomer trying to barge into my tight circle, because my alpha father and grandfather died violent deaths.

My omega dad now lived a quiet life outside the city, rarely giving up the peace of the countryside to visit me in town. So, every Sunday I’d trek to his place, eating lunch with him, my great-uncle, and my two younger brothers.

And relationships? They didn’t figure into my life. A quick fuck? Sure. I’d pay someone and we’d meet in a motel, no names exchanged, and never the same person twice, but they were always well compensated.

Mating wasn’t an option unless I met the one fate placed in my path. That was unlikely, and I refused to mate just so my dad could call himself a grandfather. A mate would have to be in lockstep with my lifestyle; always working, rarely playing.

The phone beeped, but it was the club manager asking for a meeting. I put him off, saying I was busy.

I studied my leather shoes and wondered about the animal who gave its life so my feet could be comfortably clad in the soft supple material. The gun sheathed in the holster that never left my side pressed against me, reminding me of my responsibility.

Sensing movement outside the door, I got up and stood in front of the desk, arms clasped behind me. But in the seconds before the door opened, my nose detected a unique scent, unfamiliar to me.

My wolf raised his hackles and bared his teeth, a snarl on his lips.

Stay where you are, I commanded, wanting to keep my skin. While my wolf preferred killing prey, he would protect me by ripping through my skin. Humans would faint or possibly their heart would stop on sighting my beast, whereas another shifter would pause, understanding the power behind freeing my wolf indoors.

The scent wasn’t from a shifter, and no human was my equal; an alpha wolf shifter, one who headed a huge conglomerate mafia clan and was also the pack Alpha.

I gripped the edge of the desk to steady myself, the scent creeping under the door so intoxicating it stung my eyes, and I rubbed them, wanting to see clearly as the door opened. Goosebumps crawled over my skin, a sign of both anticipation and dread. It wasn’t often I was anxious when in human form or wolf.

I liked to think confidence oozed from my pores and that my narrowed gaze would make a mere mortal quake in his boots. But my body swayed as the scent permeated the room, my thoughts tangled, bringing with them an element of fear. I didn’t like being caught off guard, and I undid my jacket, my hand grasping my gun, giving me comfort.

The scent put me off balance, and for a moment, I forgot the camera outside the door. I eyed Emilio struggling with a guy in the club’s gray uniform before the muted knock at the door.

I unlocked the door with another app and dropped the phone on the couch. My senses heightened as I anticipated the person Emilio was bringing.

“Come.”

The door swung open, a cacophony of sounds from downstairs preceding the two men, one holding a gun, the other in front of him, walking unsteadily as Emilio flung him onto the floor.

The scent assaulted my nose and hugged my skin, like soft kisses.

Do you know who he is?my wolf asked.

Not his name or his crime, but I know what he is.