She took a sip, and I hoped she would choke on it.
“The board, Andrew,” she flicked her wrist, and the older guard stepped forward with a diagram, holding it up like a goddamn wall. “But Threx doesn’t come without her. He gave up the Reapers and a chance at godhood for this thing.”
Thing? I twitched, crossing my legs to bring my shoes closer.
“In fact, rumor has it neither do you.”
“Daphne is not in the club. And as of yesterday, she became Threx’s wife, so my cum is no longer her business.” A damned lie that made me taste Rinley in my mouth.
“Married to the creature, hmmm… That solves one of my problems. But not all of them, I’m afraid. From my perspective, there are two ways we deal with this. The cleanest and least bloody requires Daphne to swear fealty, handing over her skill set to my girls and the monstrosity she’s got by the throat. Gah! I can’t wait to see how that man fucks. I bet he is better than you.”
I wanted to kill her, feed her my fucking gun, and watch her die slowly in front of me.
“And the second?” My nostrils flared, the heat of my blood rising to the tips of my ears.
“You know what comes next, love.” My eyes flashed. “You clear out disloyal men all the time. I can’t acquire a club that is already loyal to another queen unless I own her first.”
“Then let them go.”
“Ha!”
“I mean it. She is not club bait; let Daphne and Threx walk. They can move out of state, and business goes on as usual.”
“Come on, Wolfe. Threx is owned. If he so much as tries to get out, they will chase him to the end of the world, if not for retribution, then to prove what we do with traitors. That or a brief ring to the police sets him up for life without parole. And as for Daphne. She is marked. Fealty or not, she has the creature’slast name. If he runs, they’ll play with her until she wishes she were dead. Tell me I am wrong.”
Fucking hell, I rolled my neck and turned to the wall.
She wasn’t incorrect, but there were places the Seattle Underworld wouldn’t go. Other countries, for example, and I had the cash to get them out. I could pay Carden to cloak them in Reaper cover and smuggle them into a small village off the coast of Iceland. Threx would hate it. Die in the sun, shrivel, and become a bitter piece of shit that Daphne would forever have to carry up the mental health mountain, but he’d be alive.Sort of.
“Also, I am not about to share my husband with her. Call me jealous or just plain bitchy, but no. I think not.”
Marianne folded her hands, the game in her expression finally waning, when she leaned back like the mob boss she was.
“So what is it going to be, Wolfe? Marriage and a chance to save your club, with Daphne and Threx as my wedding present, or… everyone you love dies, and I’ll take you, anyway.” She shrugged, as if she had already won and this was beneath her.
“I will marry you, shape your men into actual, productive members, and even get you off from time to time,” her eyes sparkled. “But you have to let Daphne and Threx walk. If you do, I will cut all ties with both of them. You know me, Marianne. I am a ruthless son of a bitch, but I keep my word. And if I don’t, you can hang my crew and me on the wall for show. Deal?” I asked, carving my soul out of my chest and slamming it on the goddamn table.
“I still lose Threx in that scenario!”
“He is a psychopath, and without his co-regulator, all you get is a liability. Even if Daphne swore fealty to you, it only takes one dirty look in her direction for half your men to be dead.”
Crack went my ribs.
“Believe me, you don’t need him!” I continued.
Crack went my soul.
“You are not losing anything but a sliver of your pride. I mean it. Let them be someone else’s problem because you do not want this shit over our marriage. It’s not in your interest for me to hate you. Trust me.”
Marianne went back to twirling her spoon in the empty cup, the plink of the silver against glass hitting the rim, before her attention shifted.
“No,” she said, looking me in the eye. “No one gets out. She swears fealty, or they’re both dead. If not, they all die. That is my choice. What is yours?”
The question wasn’t a question; it was a cage, a noose, a death sentence. I ran the numbers; under Marianne, my men would be alive, but they would be worse people. Running trafficking outfits, drugging sex workers to feed addiction, and losing their freedom to a greater set of chains.
Not a reason.
Marrying Marianne would make me a king, a seat that, if I played correctly, could crumble her infrastructure from the inside, and one day this entire moment would come for her throat. But only if Daphne were a dog at her table, with Threx leashing her there to the floorboards. And God only knows what Marianne would do with him when she wasn’t using him to satisfy the pang between her thighs; she would turn him into the worst monster of all. Breaking him completely.