Stacy trailed after her. “He can have any bedroom he wants. Any—”
“Not mine,” Amy cut in. Her lips twitched. “Not yet.”
Stacy sighed happily. “I love that word. ‘Yet.’”
“So what happened tonight?” Amy asked, desperate to change the subject.
Stacy updated her on Miles Ironwood and Kiera Swiftshadow and the strange things regarding their past with Rowan. Amy seemed equally curious. “I wonder if they were once in love and something happened. Maybe Rowan’s grumpiness is simple longing.”
“Maybe,” Stacy echoed. “It sure was funny to watch. You should have been here.” She told Amy the pair would be back tomorrow to move in and start work. Amy would be gone most of the day but hoped to return by dinner and eat with them.
Stacy was about to tell her that Kiera claimed to be a better cook than Rowan when Spencer called again, asking Amy to let him in the front gate. “I’ll need you to…” she started.
“Already on it,” Stacy replied. Rowan had rigged up a magical device for her to put the wards down until she learned to channel her magic and take them down the right way.
Moments later, Spencer stood in the foyer, hands shoved deep in his jean pockets and his gaze trailing the house’s interior with awe. “Damn, this is your house?” he asked Stacy.
Stacy was still learning to handle people’s reactions to her wealth. She didn’t need to say anything because he added with a laugh, “I think I’ll be more than happy to occasionally stay here.”
Stacy glanced at Amy, a joke on her tongue. Amy glared, warning her not to say it. You might have magic, but I’ll still take you down, her green gaze said.
Stacy probably would have let her. Instead, she outlined what Spencer’s job would be like if he chose to be Amy’s bodyguard. She highlighted various dangers they had faced over the past few months as a result of their investigating. She spoke at length about Lenny Dolos and Victor Corbinelli but left out any mention of magic. Don’t need to scare him off yet, she thought.
Amy picked up on Stacy’s discretion and gave her a grateful look.
Spencer took the instructions in stride, seeming undaunted by the dangers. If anything, it made him more apt to protect her. “I’m honored to be considered for the job,” he stated.
Amy beamed and looped her arm through his before leading him toward the stairs. “I can show you to your room now.”
His name was Stormshaft, which Victor thought was utterly ridiculous.
Werewolves, especially their leaders, often had interesting names for themselves and their packs. This particular group called themselves the Storm Pack and kept their headquarters in East Harlem. Victor didn’t give a fuck what name they went by as long as they got the job done.
Stormshaft might have had a laughable name, but nothing about his appearance or reputation was funny. In human form, he was tall, broad, and corded with muscle. Everywhere. In wolf form, he had gleaming teeth, claws as long as Victor’s arm, and blazing red eyes, not to mention the bloodthirstiness Victor needed.
Stormshaft stood in Victor’s office in his human form, though Victor noticed the ends of his claws occasionally poking from behind his knuckles. Every once in a while, patches of fur appeared on his bare arms.
Maybe this fella was too hot-headed. Most werewolves were. Victor narrowed his eyes. He was running out of options since most of his best agents were off looking for Voss. This had better work, he thought.
Victor ran a surveying eye over the pack leader, then growled, “I hope I’m not making a mistake by hiring you and your pack.”
“You aren’t,” Stormshaft replied, his voice a near snarl. “My brothers and I have a taste for blood, especially witches.”
If not for the human form, Stormshaft would have licked his fucking chops.
“Samson,” Victor warned.
The pack leader cringed at the use of his regular name. “Don’t disappoint me,” Victor added. “The witch will have to wait, I’m afraid.”
The wolf balked. “But you promised—”
Victor held up a hand to silence him, keeping his tone even as he said, “The time for dealing with the witch will come, but we have to step carefully. Though I see Stacy Drake as a threat, she might also be useful to us in…other ways.”
The wolf leader’s mouth opened in a wide, menacing smile.
“You know the consequences for failure,” Victor went on, as casually as if he was mentioning the weather. Desperation shone in Stormshaft’s eyes. Victor heard how loudly the wolf’s heart pounded. Was it out of fear or excitement, he wondered?
“I do,” Stormshaft replied. “All my brothers do.”
“Go,” was Victor’s last word.
The werewolf sauntered from the office, leaving Victor to the shadows. He turned toward the windows where his city gleamed like hundreds of diamonds spread out for him to choose from. Yet he did not want any of them. Not now, anyway. He wanted that damn manor house in the country. He wanted to know its secrets and who had been there before.
Victor pulled out his phone and sent a series of encrypted messages to his vast network of informants. The wolf pack would do their job, but it was best to put other measures in place. The Titan reached for the glass of whiskey on his desk and drank the rest. I’m coming for you, little witch. But first, I’ll make sure you don’t have any friends.
Stacy stood in her office in the dim light of a desk lamp with the final registration paperwork stacked in a neat pile. “Finally.” She exhaled, feeling better about how the day had turned out. The paperwork was completed, and two new hires would be coming tomorrow. Now I can focus on more important things, she thought.
She emerged from her office after turning off all the lights and locked the door behind her. The estate’s garden was always like something out of a dream, but Stacy felt this was truer at night. The fountain water glowed in the moonlight with sprites either dozing on the stone or watching their reflections. The buzzing of insects filled the air, and a soft wind brushed through trees and flower bushes.
Stacy pulled in a deep breath. I understand why you liked it here so much, Mom. She imagined her mother’s life as a witch who eventually married the Red Dragon Constantine Drakethorn had been full of adventures. Perhaps Catherine made this her home because she wanted serene beauty to find solace in.
Had her mother come here to consider the enemies on the path ahead? Stacy certainly was. She roamed the walkway toward the house, which was now in shadow except for a few rooms on the lower level. Rowan, Amy, and Spencer had gone to bed hours ago. Ever the night owl, Stacy was still awake. Her eyes were tired, and her gait slowed. Maybe I should consider an earlier bedtime for my routine.
She thought of Victor and Lenny, wondering who might replace her former rival attorney. It doesn’t matter. I’ll stand for justice regardless.
