8. Wolfgang

CHAPTER 8

WOLFGANG

The Mouthy One: The weather is fine. The drinks are fine. Everything is fiiiiiine, party people! [Island emoji. Cocktail emoji. Eggplant emoji]

The Mafia Queen: Everything is NOT fine, Xander. They're predicting a category 5 tropical cyclone, and the only shelter we are afforded on this remote sandbar you insisted on inhabiting are tiki huts made of straw and twigs. DOES THAT SOUND FINE TO YOU?!

"Boss…" I hesitantly reached for Simon's phone before thinking better of it. "Maybe we should?—"

My words were cut short by someone abruptly knocking on the rickety twig door of our deathtrap straw hut.

It's probably for the best.

There's no stopping Hurricane Simon when it comes to scolding the group chat.

My inventus was too focused on furiously stabbing at his phone to look up as I stood and walked to the door.

"Hey, Wolfgang!" Zion Salah's massive bulk filled the doorway—an unnecessary reminder that he was two inches taller than me in human form.

We're still in the same weight class, though.

Because my brain is bigger.

"Can I help you, Justice?" I snapped, unable to keep the sharpness from my tone thanks to Simon's growing agitation behind me.

Zion cackled, as annoyingly unruffled as always. "Oh, it's like that, huh? Listen, I know you have your hands of death full here…" He easily peered over my shoulder to where Simon was angrily muttering to himself. "But I might have a solution to our little incoming storm problem."

"Whatever it is, do it!" Simon commanded—apparently tuning into the conversation just in time for an executive decision. "I refuse to have my hard work washed out to sea by disobedient weather."

If anyone could make the weather behave…

I nodded at Zion to lead the way but, otherwise, didn't speak. The majority of my concentration was focused on willing my cock to stop thinking it was playtime just because Simon was barking orders.

It's why I'm his dog, after all.

"As you've probably noticed…" my fellow clan leader began as we headed down the boardwalk linking the overwater bungalows. "Dahlia has made herself unavailable this week, so we can't ask her to step in as Atmosphera and blow the storm off course."

Zion's tone was casual and, combined with the absence of tension in his body, I questioned whether he even knew why his sister wasn't attending this wedding with the rest of his clan.

Maybe Dahlia hasn't mentioned what happened with Violentia?

The big lizard often commented about how unusual it was that my siblings and I were so close—relentless ball-busting aside. But I'd seen the easy way he was with his younger brothers and sisters, especially since he'd ascended the throne.

A succession I helped facilitate.

Lest we forget.

It wasn't that I was concerned about Zion knowing what had gone down between our sisters. Due to our kind's natural affinity for violence, there was a clause written into our contract absolving both sides for any minor injuries inflicted against the other family.

What bothered me was why Dahlia hadn't told him. I didn't know the hero well, but from what I'd seen, she thrived on drama. A first-hand experience with Vi losing control as Ultra Violent— in her bed —would have supplied her with ammunition for years to come.

Is she holding onto it like an ace up her sleeve?

For what purpose?

"I can smell the smoke burning from here, Wolfgang." Zion chuckled, even as he side-eyed me warily. "Something on your mind?"

"Wolfy," I murmured, still half-consumed by the mystery of Atmosphera. "You may call me Wolfy at this point."

It took me a moment to first realize what I'd said, and then another to notice Zion had stopped walking .

"Be still my heart!" he gasped as I turned to face him, clutching his chest in an exaggerated way that was beyond annoying. "Does this mean you consider me… family?!"

The love of dramatics must be hereditary.

I rolled my eyes. "You are married to my brother, Zion. Which, don't forget, only happened because of my intervention."

You're welcome.

Zion beamed. "That's right! Who knew you were such a romantic—the perfect wingman." He moved as if to slap me on the back before catching himself. "Oh shit. I don't need to risk sudden death just because we're besties now."

Wishful thinking.

The island air must have been making me more honest than usual, because I shrugged. "I don't believe my touch would kill you instantly. It's dependent on opposing power levels, so with a supe as strong as you, I'd probably need a good three to five minutes of continuous contact."

Zion gaped, all humor gone from his expression and replaced by what looked like…

Unbridled joy.

Gross.

"You just told me how your powers work…" He stared in awe as I inwardly cringed. "That's… wow. Thank you, Wolfgang. Wolfy."

Okay, now this is awkward.

"It's not a big deal," I huffed, even though it actually was.

Allowing another supe to know details of how your powers worked showed an incredible amount of trust, since that intel could be used against you.

I wasn't particularly worried about my slip up, however. Besides being bound to my family in marriage and in business, Zion had already proven time and again he wasn't interested in my throne.

He's simply ‘just happy to be here.'

Weirdo.

Unfortunately, my suspicious instincts ran deep. "It should go without saying that if I find you've leaked intel about my or my family's powers, I will have you killed." I pulled my phone from my pocket to shoot Randal a message. "We'll add an addendum to the contract so we're all on the same page."

Zion hummed, failing at hiding his amusement. "Understood. Wanna know one of my secrets in the meantime—for trade?"

My gaze snapped to his. Secrets were currency in our world, and I coveted every single one that fell into my gloved hands.

Better than a full sleeve of aces.

"Yes." I sniffed, as if I couldn't care less. "That would be sufficient collateral until we get the contract amended."

Zion looked around before stepping closer and leaning in conspiratorially. "Now, this only applies when I'm in full lizard mode, but…" Another surreptitious glance. "If you ever need to subdue me, just get me on my back. There's a spot on my lower belly—here." He demonstrated above his muscle shirt, and I tracked the movement hungrily. "If you rub it, I just might purr for you."

"Asshole," I huffed even as I tamped down a smile. "If I touched you, it would be to shut you up once and for all, not give you a fucking belly rub. "

He snickered. "That's fine. Only B's allowed to make me purr anyway." When I grimaced, he laughed and indicated we should keep walking. "Okay, so you're not going to like this idea, but I was thinking we could just ask my mother to step in about the weather?—"

"Absolutely not," I hissed, nodding stiffly at Vi and Kai as they passed us on the boardwalk—as inseparable as always. Once they were out of earshot, I continued, "One of the last people I would ever want to be indebted to is Lady Tempest?—"

"Even if she could be of use to us?" Zion calmly interrupted, eyeing me shrewdly. "My clan are your allies now. Doesn't that mean you trust us?"

How is this man a clan leader?

"Just because someone is an ally doesn't mean I trust them," I spat, but then quickly clarified when the big idiot had the nerve to look hurt. "I trust you. If I didn't, you wouldn't be allowed within ten feet of my brother. I trust Micah because it's obvious your parents have always overlooked him—a grave mistake, in my opinion." I paused to consider. "Your brother Isaiah is probably trustworthy as well, only because he's too much of a hot mess to consider a threat."

Zion laughed, but the lack of humor behind it had me daring to dig deeper.

There truly must be something in the air.

"The real question is, why would you trust the rest of your family, Zion?" I quietly asked, genuinely curious. "The majority of your siblings simply allowed you to be ostracized after you had a child with a normie, and what your parents did to you… "

To my horror, my voice wavered, but I couldn't help finding comparisons with how my siblings had been treated by our parents. Vi was constantly triggered into becoming a mindless weapon of war, while Balty's shapeshifting powers were physically stunted until they were only useful on the playing field. The twins were forced to use their minds to commit horrific acts before they were old enough to comprehend what they were doing, and as for Xanny…

He would have been culled from the litter as a child if I hadn't stepped in.

Zion nodded solemnly, no doubt knowing my history as well. "My siblings were simply protecting themselves and their kids by falling in line. As for my parents… Well, not everyone solves problems by killing their own."

I tensed but kept walking, with my gaze fixed on the horizon. "I don't know what you mean. Xander and Butch are the ones who eliminated Glacial Girl after she attempted to overthrow me, and it's common knowledge Apocalypto Man was defeated by Vortexio after his own powers inexplicably backfired. I had nothing to do with any of it."

"Of course not." Zion chuckled but didn't push back on what we all knew was complete bullshit. Then, he sighed. "Listen. I know exactly how I look, letting my parents live after what they did, but I just… I don't have it in me to take them out—not without just cause. Even with how fucking angry I was at how everyone in my family handled the Mikki situation—and how I carried that betrayal for years — I decided I'd be happier finding peace than vengeance."

Peace?!

I stopped in my tracks so I could face him fully. "Your parents treated you like a lab rat, Zion. Like a… an experiment! I call that just cause. "

Their death would have been slow at my hands.

He nodded again before calmly continuing, "Maybe it's because I was raised as a showpiece instead of a weapon, but I just can't imagine killing my own blood. Yeah, if someone physically hurt Daisy or B, I would go full Godzilla on their ass, but violence is not my default mode. I'm not… I'm not like you, Wolfy."

Realization washed over me at what he was telling me—at the potentially damning intel he was giving me in return for mine.

Zion pressed his lips into a thin line, which was a strangely grim expression to see on his usually cheerful face. "And now you know my actual weakness."

His weakness…

I would be the first to admit I was a product of my upbringing more than my true nature. This meant I possessed all the calculating, dominating, and merciless tendencies that came with being raised as a future clan leader, along with the deeply ingrained belief that a leader who didn't behave that way was, in fact, weak.

However, Zion's innate kindness was exactly why I trusted him with someone as vulnerable as Baltasar. He could have easily challenged me for my throne and used my brother as leverage. Instead, he asked me to intervene so he could unseat his manipulative parents, putting himself permanently in my debt, even without a contract between us.

In a single meeting in a back alley strip club, Zion Salah showed me what it meant to submit—that doing so sometimes meant we could better protect those we cared about.

Even if it's still a slightly foreign concept to someone like me.

"I…" I swallowed thickly but held his gaze, apparently unable to stop from word vomiting today. "I don't actually think that's a weakness."

And that's the truth.

A grateful smile stretched across his face. "Yeah, well, don't go telling everyone my secrets. I like people thinking I'll take a bite out of ‘em if they step outta line."

I nodded, pleased with our mutual destruction. "Your secret is safe with me. I won't tell anyone you're nothing but an overgrown housepet who likes belly rubs."

He stared at me a moment before throwing his head back and howling. "See? I knew you had a sense of humor under that hard candy coating. How else could you survive your family?"

How, indeed.

I rolled my eyes again before making an executive decision of my own—one that went against my very nature.

Compromise.

"I would be open to hinting at our weather troubles with Lady Tempest." I forced the words from my throat. "To perhaps test the waters—to see if she freely offers a solution."

Zion nodded as we started walking again. "Good idea. There's no need to indebt myself to someone who should be indebted to me for life."

Amen.

Humming in agreement, I picked up the pace, the terms of service already formulating in my mind. "Yes, let's approach it from that angle. I would hope Lady Tempest understands this is a chance to redeem herself for past treasons, and that if she doesn't comply, The Hand of Death will be waiting in the shadows to collect our debt."

"Dang." Zion whistled. "And here I was, thinking I'd just lay it on thick until she got tired of hearing about it."

I chuckled. "Stick with me, Padawan. You have much to learn about being a clan leader."

And perhaps I have some things to learn as well.