I could hear the edge of disapproval in his voice. Even over the phone, I couldn't lie to him. "It was a one and done thing."
"One?"
"Maybe three," I said, sheepishly.
"I warned you once, kid. You have all the time in the world for that. And you're meant for greater things," he said.
"If you say so," I said.
"How about shadowing me tonight?" he asked. "We're going down to the docks. I have a meeting with the fisherman I was telling you about."
I grinned. I knew that fisherman was a code name for something else, but I wouldn't know until I got there. Vinny always had a way of showing me the ropes through action, not words.
"Yeah, I'm game," I said.
"You've got an hour. I'll meet you by the tenth stop and then we can ride out together. Strap up, kid," Vinny said.
"Alright, gotcha."
I ran out into my bedroom buck-naked, pulled out some freshly ironed slacks and a dress shirt and slipped them on. I pulled out a metal suitcase from under my bed and extracted two handguns. I fed both with a round of ammo and made sure I had extra magazines for my vest. The last time I went out with Underboss Vinny, we didn't have to use weapons, but he'd always warned me to stay strapped just in case I did. Vinny would never take me on any high-profile assignments where spats and disagreements with salty associates did occur. Not yet anyway. I was still a kid, he said, but just under two years ago I was boy. So, I was making progress and for once in my life, I was making at least one father figure in my life proud.
"Tristan!" One of the maids entered my room announced.
I spun around to tell the intruding maid to get out but halted when I saw that she wasn't just any maid. She was my mother's favored maid.
"I have to leave in a few. What is it?" I slipped my guns into their holsters.
"It's your dad! We can't get him to stop. He's out of control!"
Without further hesitation, I dashed past the maid and down the hall where all the commotion seemed to be coming from. Why didn't I hear all the racket early? My father's voice was so loud that I was certain the entire house staff heard him. Or maybe I just didn't want to hear him. Lately, I had been trying to drown out my father's tantrums. When things didn't go his way, he lashed out violently. We thought his tantrums would stay under control, but his anger tempers reared its ugly head tenfold when Thibaud Sr. was put to rest. My father had already been named Alpha of the Pack, just like he wanted. But what was he raving about now?
I barged into the office to see a father and a son fighting. Both men were shoving each other across the room arguing over some kind of oil rig. My mother was in the center of it all, as always, trying to stop it.
"Dad!" I bellowed.
"Stay out of this, Tristan!" my father warned.
"Anderson, don't do this tonight, please," my mother scowled, tugging on my father's arm. He'd somehow managed to get his hand wrapped around Thibaud Jr.'s throat.
"Momma, what's going on?" I asked.
My mom was crying. Her eyes were bloodshot red and her right cheek was flaming red. "I don't know…" She looked hurt and confused. Only thirteen years old when she had me, my mom never wished for this life. Had never even signed up for it. But when she showed up pregnant on my grandfather's doorstep, what had transpired between my her and a fifteen-year-old Anderson couldn't be denied. As the daughter of my son's tutor, their relationship had blossomed over a period of a year. Most everyone had seen it coming, but the teenagers had already fallen in love.
I glanced at her blood-red cheek again. "Did he hit you again?" I asked.
She looked away from me and said, "Please go get one of the Enforcers to come stop this mess. I've just about had it. I can't see them fighting anymore."
"Mom, did he hit—"
"Go!" She shoved me toward the door.
The majority of the older Pack families still lived on Arnou land, so it didn't take me long to find two Enforcers standing right outside of our home patrolling our property.
They came inside of the room and was able to calm my father's nerves and get him to keep his paws from off of my grandfather's throat. This wasn't the first time Pack members had come between the two to stop a dispute or fight, so none of them were fazed with my father's action.
As Alpha of the Pack, my father sent the Enforcers away for the night. They had no choice but to oblige my father's request and left the mansion immediately. My grandfather had already disappeared, leaving me and my mother standing there.
"He's getting soft!" My father yelled, pointing out the door after my grandfather. "He went behind my back and secured a deal with the Yanceys."
I had no idea what my father was talking about, but I'd heard the name before in connection with some oil rig down in Texas. The business-side of the network was still something I had yet to be trained in, but I didn't care. All the training I needed was coming from Vinny, the Underboss.
Suddenly, I remember my appointment with Vinny. I glanced down at my wristwatch and grumbled a curse. I pulled my cell phone from my pocket, my right thumb on the auto-dial ready to call Vinny to alert him that I was on my way but might be a few minutes late. Vinny hated when I was late. He hated it so much that he had no problems leaving me when I wasn't on time, and I hated being left behind.
My father banged the edge of the mahogany desk, jolting me from my thoughts. My mother jumped, startled, next to me.
"This was private family business. Which one of you brought the Enforcers in here?" my father demanded. He spun around and cracked his knuckles as he trained his glare on both of us.
"Anderson, I…" my mom began to speak.
I didn't let her finish. I stepped in front of her and looked my father square in the face. "I did. I brought the Enforcers in here."
My father's left eyebrow twitched and I could sense the anger literally rolling off of him. In two strides, he closed the distance between us and sucker-punched me right in the face, connecting his brass knuckles with the bridge of my nose.
I made not one sound, even when blood began leaking from my nose. The pain was excruciating. My wolf spirit awakened and rolled around in misery under my skin.
My mother ran up to my father and pounded his chest, screaming about how he was such a fleabag. My father seemed to enjoy it…making my mother mad.
I pulled out a handkerchief to clean the blood from my nose, and he grinned.
"If you're strong enough to take up for your mother and to lie for her, you're strong enough to accept her punishment," he told me. "Don't let that bull crap happen again! I'm the Alpha. You don't call my Enforcers in here unless I tell you to call for enforcements. You got that?"
I said nothing. Just bit the inside corner of my mouth.
My father lunged forward, but my mother stopped him. "You promised me that you'd never hit him again," my mother screamed.
My father cradled the back of my mother's head in his hand and ran his fingers through her hair. "Yes, I did promise you, didn't I?" He rose his gaze to connect with mine once again and kissed her on the forehead. "But you know what you promised me…that you'd never disobey me again. And you did…" He pushed her on her knees and loosened his belt.
"Yes, I did promise you that I'd obey," I heard her whisper.
My father grinned. "Yes, you did. Now be a good wife and make my anger go away."
Before she could unzip his fly, I bolted from the room, rushed out of the door, and jumped into my car…glad to be free of the chaos and confusion. I didn't understand the dynamics of my father's and mother's relationship. And I would never understand it.
After the run with Vinny, I came straight back home. I was tired as fuck after a full day. Between the day out with Jovan and the girls he invited to accompany us to some country club and then to the hotel afterward, the fiasco with my father, and then finally something that was considered an actual job, I was more than ready to dive under my covers and sleep well into the day. When I arrived home, I thought I'd be met w
ith silence. Unfortunately, that's not what I was met with.
My mother and father were still up arguing. My parents fought all the time, but something felt different about this.
I raced up the stairs to the master suite and knocked on the door.
"Mom, are you okay?"
The door was thrown open and the sight of my mom in a flimsy silk garment that appeared to be torn in several places shocked me. It was like Deja vu all over again.
"What the fuck?" I exclaimed.
"Leave us!" my father instructed.
"No." I shook my head and then entered the room to aid my mother in getting up off the floor. "I thought this fight was over. First, grandfather and now my mother. When does it end? What kind of fucking drugs are you on?"
"Don't talk to me like that, son, or I'll knock some more sense into you," he warned. His eyes roved over my dress suit. "Where were you anyway?"
"Out," I answered.
"Out doing what in full gear like that?" he asked.
"Out with Vinny. What does it matter?"
I witnessed a look of pure jealousy crossed his face. He had never approved of the way Vinny was tutoring me in the business. He claimed he was never given as much privilege as I got from Vinny, but I knew that to be a lie. Vinny had confided in me several times that he'd trying numerous times to show my father the ropes, but all my father seemed to care about was Pack life. Vinny would never lie to me and I knew this to be true anyway. Even grandfather had confirmed it a time or two.
"I don't want you out with Vinny anymore, you hear me? From now on, you'll be learning how to do things my way. The Arnou way," my father stated.
"I know the Arnou way, father. Thibaud Sr. taught me already. I've moved on. I've graduated from that now," I told him.
He reached out and tugged me by the collar and then slammed me up into the wall. "Let me rephrase that. You're my son. Not Vinny's. You're not going to make me look like a chump in front of the Zovics…in front of the Boss. When we have that conference next week, you make sure you tell them you'll be training with me now."
I felt violated the way he was holding me like a bitch against the wall. I had pistol whipped motherfuckers over this same thing. Just because I looked young, didn't mean I wasn't prepared to light up any motherfucker who laid a hand on me. But this was my father. Son respected father. And I wasn't going to lay a hand on him for trying to discipline me the only way he knew how.
"I can't make you look like a chump in front of anyone, father. You do that yourself," I told him.
My statement provoked him and he raised his hand once more. My mother intervened and caught my father's fist before it ever reached my face, but she paid dearly for it. He struck her instead. I acted on instinct and pulled the gun on my father.
He laughed. "What are you going to do, son? Shoot your own father. That's how humans resolve disputes. We're not humans. We're wolves. We don't need weapons. We are the weapon."
Then he proceeded to beat my mother. With his fist. With his belt. I did my best to hold him off, taking most of the blows, but it seemed the more hits I took for her, the harder he hit her when he managed to strike her.
Somehow, my mother got a hold of a gun located on one of the nightstands. She aimed it at my father.
"You're going to shoot me, Teresa? End my life?" He asked, bringing his hands out to the side. "Is that what you want?"
She shook the gun in fury. "I want this to stop." Her finger shook on the trigger.
My father walked right up to her, to the gun, showing no signs of ear. "You wouldn't kill me." The butt of the barrel of the gun pressed into his chest, right against his heart.
Her hands were shaking, nervously. One twitch of her finger would end my father's life.
"You wouldn't," he taunted her.
She shook her head, cried out in defeat and lowered the weapon.
My father acted in range, hoisted her up off the floor and then hurled her clear across the room. I heard bones crack when her body made connection with the wooden column of the large four poster bed. Then there was a thud and silence. When I looked at my mother next, her eyes were lifeless. Her limbs…her whole body…contorted in what looked like some gruesome display of surrender.
I ran to her, but it was too late. There was no more life left in her. Her frail human body couldn't withstand what my father had put her through.
I shook her gently. "Momma, wake up. Wake up now."
There was silence. No heartbeat. No pulse. She was gone.
"You killed her!" I yelled at my father.
He looked just as shocked as I was. As if he didn't know that he could hurt her with the amount force he'd used.
"No…" His voice trembled.
"Yes. You did…"
I choked on my own bile and anguish. My fangs distended violently from my gums. My emotions took control, rolling through me without warning. I wasn't going to lie. I was in complete control of what happened next. I was in total control of my wolf as I let my animal out. My father saw it coming. I made sure he did. I lunged toward him, going for his throat. Even when his heated blood filled my mouth, I didn't let up. I bit down until I squeezed the life right out of him—until the wolf spirit left his body. Until the man was dead.
My grandfather was one minute too late by the time he raced up the stairs. And by that time, I had already shifted back, the remnants of my kill still fresh on my tongue.
My grandfather glared at me, with green mossy eyes filled with despair. "Tristan, what have you done?"
Chapter Ten
Tristan
I was in the middle of a weightlifting session when our house manager entered the downstairs basement telling me that my grandfather wanted me to come down immediately. Without much thought, I instantly knew what he wanted. When I walked into his bedroom suite, music was playing in the background—a classical number by Serbian composer Stanislav Binički. The sound of the breathing machines that kept him alive blended with instrumental beats of March on the Drina. The television was also playing in the background. It was tuned into the evening news.
The room smelled of lilacs, and oddly, of licorice. The lilac aroma didn't surprise me. His around-the-clock live-in maid, Rachel Nurse, smelled of them all the time. She was the only nurse that we both trusted to care for him and she'd been caring for him dutifully for the past six years.
"Who put a bullet in your shoulder?" It was the first thing my grandfather said to me. No greeting. Nothing of the sort. But I was used to it by now. He didn't care for formalities. He and I were alike in that manner.
"He's dead, so it doesn't matter now," I answered, wiping the sweat still draining from my forehead.
His expression remained muted while his eyes examined me like he was looking for more recent bullet wounds that hadn't quite healed yet.
All the Arnou men were born with the same mahogany shade of hair, but my grandfather's hair had since turned as white as snow. He kept it long and refused to let anyone cut.
"Close the door," he ordered the moment I crossed the threshold.
I did as he said and approached his bedside. He caught my gaze with those intense moss green eyes of his. And as if I hadn't heard the announcements from reporter on the news to begin with, he lifted the remote control and turned up the volume.
"We've just got confirmation that Chancey Elliot, a business owner who was just recently elected to the Montana Chamber of Commerce was found dead yesterday in what appears to be a gruesome attack so heinous, he couldn't even be initially identified. Elliot moved to the Montana area five years ago when he was brought on as CEO and President of the real estate firm, LandMatrix. After his death, authorities were able to link Elliot to a string of prostitution murders. Elliot's death…"
I took the remote control from my grandfather and turned off the television.
"What have you done?" my grandfather asked.
I took a seat in the big leather chair by his bedside. "What needed to be done."
&n
bsp; "Should I rephrase my question? What did Chancey do?"
"Since I gained control of more than half of the network, Goran and Jovan have gone into hiding. Instead of handing over the business to me as they were supposed to do per our agreement, they've been plotting to take me down by picking off my soldiers and intercepting packages being delivered to my associates. Just this morning, I got another report that one of my high-end retail businesses in New Jersey was raided."
"And you're certain Chancey had in on it?" he asked.
"Ever since this started happening, I had no doubts that someone from the inside was doing this. Goran and Jovan still have access to a few international and investments accounts, but their controls on the network were revoked the moment I made my claim. It had to be someone who had knowledge of how I worked and conducted business."
"And you confirmed it was Chancey…"
I nodded. "The leads are solid. The evidence was solid. I keep a chip enclosed in every package to keep tabs on my goods before they get to the buyer. Once they get to the buyer and everything changes hands as promised, the chip is deactivated. In this case, the package never got to the buyer. The chip was still active. I tracked it to a residence about one hundred miles from where my soldiers were gunned down. The home belonged to a dealer that used to work for Chancey before we started initiating our own. He must have discovered the chip because he vacated the home and has since been AWOL. Later, we tracked the chip to a landfill with the original contents inside. I had a hacker breach Chancey's computer files linking a wire transaction to that dealer on the day my soldiers were gunned down."
My grandfather frowned. "Chancey has been an associate for years."
"Yes, but he's loyal to Goran, not me. We were never on good terms. Now do you see why I mean to bring everything in-house? The old ways of the Zovics won't work in this century. If I have people working for me in the network, they need to pledge their loyalty to me or I don't know what their intentions are. I don't want to start from the ground up, but if I have to…"
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