Greg felt something when he looked at Sushmita: immense distrust - an involuntary response that oozed from Izabella’s betrayal. Every huntress was an enemy, he was sure. This one was no exception. She may be an octopus but - for all anyone knew - she was probably also a part-time chameleon, given how attractive she was. And chameleons were the most ruthless of the bunch.
He knew she’d been the brains behind correspondences, the queen had told him so, but he imagined her to be more… defensive, like Patterson; or anxious, like Abbott.
If Greg’s facial reading wasn’t off, the huntress just looked tired. And enraged. Yes, definitely enraged. And she had no right to be! It was her fellow huntress who started this whole thing.
Sushmita exhaled as she scribbled one word on her notepad and pushed it to Valor, who took one look and his eyebrows shot to his hair before he pushed back the notepad. Facing the royals, he began, “Like we said before, Izabella Delilah’s crime…”
Lucy interrupted. “I think the Chief Octopus’s recommendation on how you should start this meeting would make us want to kill you less, Valor.” She’d seen the scribble - apologize, and could feel the huntress’s frustration from across the table when the commander discarded her advice like trash instead treating it as gold.
Valor checked his cards. The odds were definitely stacked against him, against all of them - as Sushmita had been drilling into his head for months on end that he’d begun having nightmares about the way her nostrils flared when she said it.
The leader swallowed the lump of ego in his throat, clenched his teeth, and tried again, “I apologize for attempting to postpone our meeting.”
“For lying,” Lucy pressed mercilessly.
“The matter was urgent, Your Majesty.” He tried not to spit at her title, as much as he wanted to, but the way he despised being spoken to by someone decades younger than him AND who was a woman slipped off in a subtle way.
Lucy’s brows raised. She’d seen the projection on the white screen earlier. “A discussion of your people’s ranking and stations for next term is NOT more important than the threat several of yours posed to our people, my family. Wouldn’t you agree?”
It was a dare. It’d take a fool not to see it. Valor didn’t have to look to Sushmita to know the right move was to concede. “Yes, Your Majesty,” he uttered grudgingly, fingers digging into the flesh on his lap to cope with the bruised ego. Fucking lycans. Fucking wolves. Fuck them all! This one, though small, caused the biggest problems! If times were different, he’d shove a dagger down her throat or put a clean bullet through her skull.
One of Lucy’s hands was on Xandar’s lap since they sat, his hand over hers, more to keep himself from exploding than to keep her calm. He began, “Now that we’ve laid your lies on the table and got that out of the way,” Xandar accepted the document Lucy handed to him and placed it in front of Valor. “Let’s go through this one more time then sign it off and you can get back to that very urgent matter of yours.”
“With much respect, Your Majesty,” Valor began, putting Sushmita on higher alert. What was he doing, she thought. “We need more time to assess the feasibility of your demands.”
Toby noted pointedly, “You had four months.”
“Minister, the treaty - which practically demands we give your species physical access to our operations and security systems for the next three months and virtual access for the next decade - is, I’m not sorry to say, too steep a price for the… incident that the duke had the misfortune of suffering.”
Sushmita’s head tilted back, closing her eyes so no one would see what she was thinking, which was her boss being yet another fucking idiot. God help her.
Greg would admit that when he put that item in the list of demands, he’d expected a firm and flat no from his cousin if not from the queen first. He was surprised when they fully supported it.
“Misfortune…” Lucy began, with the voice of frost. “...is a condition brought about by nature, something none of us can control. What happened to the duke was not a misfortune. It was a conspiracy designed to compromise our species. A scheme to get close to the duke to take my daughter’s blood and you call that an ‘incident’? Which the duke had the ‘misfortune of suffering’?”
She scoffed, an upward tug at the right corner of her lips did nothing to take away the deathiness on her face when she added with feigned understanding, “Well, I suppose everyone has a different way of assessing the gravity of a situation. I would say more, always being big on words, but my New Year’s resolution is to speak less. So let’s try something new.”
Turning to Greg as he extracted a black velvet box from his inner coat and opening the lid as if he was offering the queen jewelry when it was to reveal a multi-needle syringe disguised as a hairbrush, Lucy’s eyes darkened in deep onyx as she took it from the extravagant casing. “Fortunately, the substance inside remains functional. Tested on several rats, all of which died within weeks, as you well know since you’ve been given the report and a sample of the substance, which your own people have returned with similar reports. It’s very creative, using malleable needles for it to pass off as a common brush, only this brush is able to subtly extract the victim’s blood while injecting the suppressants inside to numb the victim’s receptors so that she would be none the wiser. It’s extremely clever, using needles that hold the substance in so its scent and danger remains undetectable.”
Her chair scraped against the floor as she stood. “Now, Valor, to help you better understand the gravity of the situation, I’m going to use this brush on you. We’ll see if anything happens. If it does, if you drop dead, it’ll simply be an incident that you’d have the misfortune of suffering. Let’s start, shall we?”
Valor was about to shoot up but the lycan warriors stepped forward and held him down. Face turning white as Lucy’s heels clicked toward him, his paling lips quivered as Abbott attempted to get off his seat only to be stopped by another lycan warrior.
When the tips of the brush touched the first strands of hair, Valor leaned away and yelled, “Alright! Alright! Just… remove that thing!”
Holding it in place, Lucy prompted, “Was it just an incident?”
“N-No,” Valor muttered.
“That the duke had the misfortune of suffering?” she pressed.
Valor’s eyes inadvertently met Greg’s cold ones before the commander looked away, muttering, “No.”
“Glad to know we’re finally on the same page,” Lucy replied with a cocky smile, freeing him from the brush and hearing him release a relieved sigh as she turned to her warriors. “That’ll do, Fiona, Simon. Thank you.” The warriors bowed and released their hold of Valor, stepping back into their positions.
Patterson’s dick twitched at Lucy’s speech and the show that followed. Something about her made everything that just happened hot as fuck. He had to cross his legs to hide the erection as one hand went over his mouth to hide the smile underneath.
His arousal hit the noses of many and all raging eyes turned to him when Lucy threatened with a growl, “Turn off the damn thing or I will tear off the structure myself and feed it to Valor’s dog.”
“It’s harder than it seems,” he muttered to himself, only realizing his poor choice of words after they left his lips and the pun that was clearly not intended made Xandar shoot up from his chair, pulling Patterson from across the table, earning a groan from the hunter when his knees hit the edge.
Greg turned to Lucy while watching the show. “Should I help tear off the structure, my queen?”
“No, Greg. Not today.”
“Another day, then,” Greg muttered.
Xandar’s claws from his thumb and index finger at Patterson’s jawline sunk into his skin. Patterson grunted, desperate to refrain from screaming and cursing at his own body’s response to the brute’s mate. Red fluid trickled from the wounds and everyone smelled Patterson’s blood.
Although most had their eyes either on Xandar or the struggling Patterson, Sushmita’s eyes stuck to her notepad, her hand holding her head like it was too heavy. I’m surrounded by idiots, she thought for probably the hundredth time.
A loud crash followed when Xandar threw Patterson’s body back into his chair and the hunter fell with the chair upon the impact, groaning again as his hand rushed to feel his wounds.
With a hand on Lucy’s back, Xandar delivered a warning, “That should remind you about control. And if they don’t, I’m more than happy to make adjustments to help you remember. But those would involve the permanent removal my wife suggested and it would not be fed to a dog. It would be shoved down your throat.”
That made Patterson’s structure shrivel as his chest rose and fell in exhausted breaths. He refused Abbott’s outstretched hand and pushed himself up, setting the chair back in place, avoiding looking at Lucy in case he lost it again.
Sushmita scribbled something and pushed the notepad to Valor, who - this time - covered it with his palm and leaned back before reading it from his hand. “If you don’t sign the damn thing now, the list would only get longer. You and Patterson just made it longer.”
Putting the notepad facedown, Valor exhaled sharply before murmuring, “Let’s get this over with.”
After illegible signatures were slashed across dotted lines, Lucy demanded, “Where are they?”“Well,” Valor began. “Seeing that I initially sought a postponement, the ones behind the conspiracy aren’t her—”Lucy and Xandar growled, shooting up from their seats once more as their thunderous rumble echoed through the room, at which time every other wolf and lycan stood. The strength of their snarls reverberated through everyone’s eardrums, making Abbott and Valor shudder internally. Their glacial, onyx eyes drained the color out of Valor, and Xandar’s voice turned deeper and more threatening than anyone had ever heard when he ordered, “You fucking get them here. In this room. In thirty minutes. Or we will invoke Clause 4.”Valor didn’t need reminding what Clause 4 was: if the event of breach, the kingdom may hold the commander of hunters hostage until the breach is remedied, subjecting him to any form of treatment the kingdom deemed appropriate. Where the breach remains unremedied with
“You’re going away again?” Enora asked, a film of water glossing over her lilac eyes threatened to spill over. Greg hesitated. So this was why the queen asked him to tell Enora. Having this conversation was harder than he thought. “Yes, sweetheart. We’re going to see each other a little less, but only for the next three months. I’ll still pick you up from school on Fridays and we can go to the pond or the park on Saturdays. After three months, everything will be back to normal. And I’ll pick you three times a week again, as usual.” Enora’s gaze lowered. Then, a sniffle escaped her, sending a crack into her uncle’s heart as he hoisted her into his arms. “I’ll still be here, Enora. This isn’t like the one with your Aunt Pelly where I disappeared completely for two weeks. I’ll meet you two days every week and I’ll call everyday.” “You pwomise?” “I promise.” She sniffled again, her arms around his neck tightened. After some time, she asked, “Are you going to see Ugly Deli?” “No, Eno
The following week, Greg and thirty mavericks trooped into the hunters’ headquarters. Each type of hunter would have ten mavericks breathing down their necks in the coming months, who would rotate at month’s end. Greg himself would turn up in any department at any time he deemed fit. Bless his cousin-in-law…fine, and cousin - for materializing this big-shot request he made. The archers, chameleons and octopuses crammed in the welcome lounge to greet them. Valor’s idea was to start with an introduction session “to break the ice”. A gust of frustrated exhale left Greg when he replied, “I break necks and limbs, sometimes ribs, but never ice.” Taking one step closer, towering over Valor who swallowed and tried not to squirm, Greg declared, “I’m not here to make friends, Valor. My people and I have memorized every face, name and background of every hunter months before today. If you and your people have not conveyed the thirty-one names and faces here to memory, I’d recommend you step
“He’s hot, isn’t he?” The orange-hair huntress, Hazel Robinson, whispered to Sushmita.Hazel was deputy chief with a personality that was in direct contrast from her superior. She was the approachable one, the friendly one, the one you’d want at a party because she’d light up the room.Sushmita, on the other hand, would just dim everything down - at least, that was how she felt.It was surprising to them both that Sushmita was appointed chief when Hazel was already deputy under their former chief, Zasper Zavier. Sushmita tried to change the defense ministry’s minds but they saw no merit in “she’d already been deputy for years”, so the position went to Sushmita, who the ministry knew would handle the publicity and mediation with the kingdom well enough that they themselves would remain alive at the end of things.Hazel and Abbott had been under close scrutiny when their respective chief and deputy had been found to be involved in the conspiracy. It took several weeks before they were c
Greg was reading Sush’s profile. The first part, he already knew: only child; orphaned at age ten; stayed with maternal relatives until a few days shy of her eighteen birthday before the last of them - her uncle, passed on. After high school, she took up mechanical engineering with a full scholarship in her first year, partial scholarship in subsequent years while taking up jobs at restaurants, malls and two-day events that pay a lot. She graduated with a Second Class (Upper) Division and secured a job at a moderately reputable company but quit two years later and joined the hunters. Here was what he didn’t know: she took multiple courses in hacking; her parents were what they called Liabilities - non-hunters. Both died in road accidents, albeit separate ones. It was rare for a hunter to be born out of two Liabilities, but history did prove this was possible. In the midst of working, he heard a shriek, followed by a crash and an overdramatic, “Ouch! Ooooh! Help!” coming from somewher
Sushmita made her way to the lunch lounge that was built exclusively for the chameleons while the octopuses and archers spent their lunch hour on a separate floor. The chameleons’ lounge had posh furniture and high-tier lighting, floors that shone and air-conditioners that were all fully functional. Sushmita breezed past the food stations and chameleons queuing to form a millipede, heading straight to the VIP section where the salt and pepper hair of her boss came into view. Patterson was there, too. As expected. The Chief Chameleon sat leaned back with one leg over the other, an arm casually resting on the empty chair next to him, chatting with Valor with the confident, easy smile that gave him such a big boost in climbing up the ranks. Sushmita wasn’t sure whether it was the pattering of her sneakers or her radiating anno
Exiting the elevator, Sush drew in a greedy lungful of air. She loved the smell of the trenches, which she wasn’t sure whether was odd. Even before she was chief, her senses loved it here. She didn’t like the politics, the gossip, the need to please the higher-ups, but the work? God, she loved the work. She especially loved inventing things and tweaking inventions, drawing immense satisfaction from bringing her imagination to life, running tests, finding solutions to problems, improving designs and modifying structures. This was her place, her escape. Sure, there were bad days but even those days had good stuff in it.It was sad that she’d have to leave once she’d avenged her mother. It was the main reason she stayed, she felt - to linger around long enough to be entrusted with every piece of information within the headquarters. Deep down, she knew she’d love to stay forever if she could. But she couldn’t have it both ways. It wouldn’t be wise or feasible to stay by the end of her pl
Sushmita reached her one-bedroom apartment after midnight. Lying in bed and staring into the darkness that jeeringly matched her life, she kept telling her body to go to sleep. But it couldn’t. Her energy levels would normally be wiped out by now and she may not even remember her head touching the pillow or whether she pulled up the blankets. But tonight, she even had the mental and physical strength to charge her phone.Yes, she knew it wasn’t good for the battery. No, she didn’t care.Her brain was still buzzing, nerves still firing. From Delilah to Valor to Catrine Carter to Monica Upshaw and… to Greg. Why Greg? She delved deeper into that.Unlike the catastrophe of a person she’d imagined, he actually seemed… decent. Not a choice of word she’d go for from the little she knew about him before today, especially not after the way he ended Logan Larson. She should be terrified from witnessing the kill, but she actually felt envious that Greg was granted permission to do something she