“First things first,” Koah said. “You’re sure we can trust him?”
“You were nicer at the party,” Fenrir responded without skipping a beat. “How’d it go with the brunette?”
“Wouldn’t you know it? I ended up with the redhead in the end.”
Fenrir chuckled. “Catching the wrong bait seemed to be the theme of this year's Heated Hearts Day.”
“Say Note’s name,” O’s hand captured Fenrir’s nape and held, “I dare you.”
“You just did it for me.”
“He’s got the most visible claiming mark I’ve ever seen,” Baal chimed in, sending his comment Koah’s way. “Whether we can trust him or not isn’t important. If he betrays us, Oberon is the one who has to pay the price.”
A low warning growl erupted from Fenrir.
“Relax, precious,” Oberon reassured. “He’s joking.”
“I’m not,” Baal corrected, holding Fenrir’s gaze pointedly. “So tread wisely, Snow.”
“No.” This time, it was O’s turn to glare at the underboss. “No nicknames.”
“It’s hardly a nickname,” Koah smirked, clearly knowing he was poking the bear. “It’s his surname.”
“We’re changing it.” He only just barely got the sentence out before the omega was protesting.
“We are not.” Fenrir elbowed him lightly in the stomach, causing O to let go of his neck. “Since I doubt we’ve gathered here to talk about this, how about we focus?”
“Pretty sure that’s what I’ve been saying,” Koah grumbled.
“Michelle kept as many vials of Rebirth as she could,” Fenrir turned to the underboss. “I don’t know exactly where she’s hidden them, but I know they’re somewhere on the fourth level of the estate.”
“How many is many?” Baal asked.
“I don’t know. I only saw them once when Trick was transporting them.”
“And you’re positive it’s Rebirth?”
“Yes. They were still labeled at the time. When word got out that Imperial Prince Altair was making moves on presentation-altering drug trials, the Wardrobe panicked. A good lawyer could argue that more than eighty percent of their business is legally run. Rebirth fell into the twenty percent category. The board didn’t want to risk it all on the chance of a partnership with the Imperial Prince.”
“Altair and the Eumia mafia already have a team,” Koah filled in. “Since they’d formed their own with professionals they trust, there was no way they’d allow a company like the Wardrobe to keep their research.” He clicked his tongue. “I told Levi to play nice with the prince. If he’d taken my advice, it would be us working alongside him and reaping the rewards.”
“Levi doesn’t care about that sort of thing,” Baal drawled.
“What? Money and power?”
“Seems like he cares now,” Fenrir interjected, shrugging when they looked at him. “He wants to use me to find the remaining vials, doesn’t he?”
“Curious what he wants them for?” Baal questioned. “Perhaps you want to see if your transformation can be reversed?”
Oberon held his breath. That hadn’t even occurred to him. What if—
“No.” Fenrir laughed. “I’m happy as I am.”
“But you want something,” the underboss insisted.
“Yeah,” he lifted a single shoulder. “I’m not about to give something this valuable away for free.”
The vibe in the room noticeably dropped, but Fenrir kept his cool and stared the underboss down without flinching.