The first thing everyone noticed in Lucas Atkins' office was the silence.
And it wasn't that the office was empty.
No.
It was in fact well polished, and very expensive. The black marble floors and the floor-to-ceiling glass that showed off the city's skyline were proof of it.
Yet, it was as if his office was a predator's den while the city below was his territory.
The only sounds that could be heard were the precise tick-tick-tick of the Patek Philippe on his wrist and the soft snick of a silver lighter flicking open and shut in his hands.
Snick, flame. Snick, darkness.
The files on his desk weren't even for business either. At least not this time.
They were actually a hit list.
Nothing but financial records, surveillance photos and psychological profiles of all the men who had signed the order to eradicate his kind.
His special black pen moved methodically, not signing contracts but crossing out names. And he did it as if saying each stroke was final, or a verdict no one could change.
The door opened without a sound and Jack, his beta, moved through the space with a silence that Lucas was used to.
He placed a sealed folder on the desk before him and went straight to the decanter, then he poured two fingers of whiskey into a glass.
He did it all with such precision that it was obvious he did this more often than not. It was a ritual.
"Well?" Lucas' voice broke the silence finally. His voice was low, like it was not a question but a demand for the report he knew was coming.
"She escaped the hospital today."
Lucas' hand stilled immediately as a dark and unexpected ripple of amusement cut through his focus.
Escaped. Such a dramatic word for a foolish act.
His pen hovered over a photograph of Victor Hale, a man whose smile was a little too wide for Lucas' liking. The first domino. The one who'd fall easily.
And then a dark, humorless chuckle escaped him. "Escaped? You make it sound like I chained her to the bed or something."
He said as he finally lifted his gaze.
"She didn't really escape, you know? The door was wide open. So it's okay to let her believe that she has a choice. It only makes the inevitable crawl back so much more satisfying."
Lucas could almost taste her future desperation, and it made him happy. She had nothing, not even the dignity of the name her father gave her.
Jack didn't flinch at his alpha's words. He never did. "The city surely has no patience for disgraced entertainers. She'll find every door shut in that pretty face of hers."
That face.
The amusement on Lucas' face vanished, replaced by a sudden vicious heat that made his gut coil.
He set the pen in his hands down with a quiet click and then looked at his beta.
For a second, just a little, he intentionally let his mask slip. He let Jack see the raw hatred boiling beneath his soul.
"You know? Every time I look at her," he started, his voice dropping to a venomous whisper that barely carried across to Jack.
"I see him. That same smug tilt of the chin he always had when he used to come to our place. The one we thought was a playful smug without knowing that it was mockery. She wears that exact face when she looks at me."
His hand tightened around the whiskey glass as if the poor glass was a substitute for a throat.
If only I could carve it off her skull.
Due to the harsh squeeze he gave, the rim of the glass cracked with a sharp, satisfying ping. The liquid in it mixed with the little blood it caused his hand to bleed as the mixture welled over his knuckles and onto the file on his table.
But Lucas didn't care. He in fact watched it spill and enjoyed the way it spread across the paper.
It was like a small preview that everything they touched would rot.
Jack didn't react to any of it either. He understood Lucas, even though his own hatred was a patient one. He simply slid another folder onto the table.
And inside were more photos of powerful men. Lots of them were taken at galas, in boardrooms.
If only these men knew that were all shaking hands with demons. He thought. But then, where humans in anyway different from one another? They were all the same. My father made the mistake of trusting just one and see where it got all of us
"Kline is still untouchable, Alpha. His political armor is very thick," Jack reported in an analytical tone. "Hale on the other hand is beginning to crack. He got into bad investments and so the leverage is building."
Lucas spread the photos with his clean hand. It was like a predator assessing his prey.
"One by one, Jack. No one slips the debt. We may not have gotten the chance to ruin Sanders ourselves but he has family we would use. And his allies will follow."
His fingers tapped on a photo of a man with a cruel smile, Donovan, one of the architects of the purge.
"I honestly think we could start with Finch instead of Hale though," Jack suggested, his voice showing no mercy. "He's weaker and easier to gut. Or even Donovan, if we want the message to be very loud."
Lucas picked up the photo of Charles Finch and held it between his thumb and forefinger while staring at the smiling face until his knuckles whitened.
"No." He finally said in a flat, final tone. "A bleeding beast draws scavengers. We'll stick to our plan and let them circle each other. They'll expose their own throats in their panic."
He then flicked his lighter again as the flame came to life in the form of a tiny, controlled inferno.
Our kind has waited this long. We can wait a little longer. The hunt is everything.
He lowered the corner of Finch's photo into the flame and the paper blackened and then curled while surrendering to the fire.
Lucas held it until the heat threatened to bite his fingertips, then he dropped the burning scrap into the heavy ashtray beside him.
He then inhaled deeply, as if he enjoyed the scent of the ash. Like it was vengeance filling his lungs.
Burn them all. The wolf within him growled restlessly.
I wish it was that easy, I really wish.
"Should we send someone to retrieve her though?" Jack asked, although the way he did was proof that he already knew the answer Lucas would give.
Lucas' smirk filled his face coldly. "No. Let her rot. Let her truly taste what it means to be nameless, penniless, and forgotten."
He looked out at the city. "Let every door slam in her face until she understands the depth of the ruin she's in. She'll learn her place soon enough. She needs to learn what ruin tastes like before I ever lay a hand on her."
"Yes sir." Jack agreed eagerly. "So what happens after she learns?"
Lucas rose and moved to the window. The city lights reflected in his silver-gray eyes while he adjusted his cuff links again. A habit he was used to doing as a means of control, or more of containing the beast within.
"Then I welcome her to hell."
"But what if she gets into so much trouble that might take her life?" Jack pestered.
"She disgusts me so much, but she's not allowed to die peacefully. That's too lenient." Lucas started and then turned his head just enough to pin Jack with a gaze that showed his hatred. "So if anyone touches her…"
He paused and let the silence hang in the air before he continued in a whisper that was absolute and unchallengeable.
"Kill them."