Leah's POV
I nodded, keeping my face smooth, blank - a perfect little mirror for the director's pride. Inside, my blood roared. These bastards had turned on Liam's father the second his body was cold, carved up his legacy, and handed it to Al Cosa on a silver platter. Everything Liam should've had—stolen. But I kept my claws sheathed, my fangs hidden. Not yet.
Dinner came next, the shift announced by a waiter's clipped voice. I'd spent the earlier hours letting the deputy mayor fleece me at cards, folding my hands with a shy smile while his stack of chips grew. By the time we sat down to eat, he was rosy-cheeked and beaming, drunk on victory and wine. He clapped a meaty hand on my shoulder, his breath sour. "Leah, you've got to come to the seafood charity dinner next weekend. Big fundraiser for the Pier 16 Free Trade Zone. It'll be a hell of a show."
I smiled, soft and apologetic. "I'd love to, but I'm flying to California next week. My company's got an event - male models, you know, the whole circus."
His face crumpled, disappointment souring his grin. "Oh, that's a damn shame. We were counting on you."
I tilted my head, quick to smooth the sting. "Don't worry, though - I'll make a fat donation to the city's renovation plan for the free trade zone. Use the funds however you need. No need to pinch pennies on my account."
He perked up, nodding like I'd just handed him a golden ticket. "Generous girl, Leah. We'll put it to good use."
The meal dragged on, plates of overcooked meat and greasy sides, but I picked at it, keeping my eyes down, my laughs light. When it was finally over, I excused myself, slipping out of the penthouse and into the hallway. The elevator waited, its polished doors a promise of escape. I stepped inside, the silence a brief reprieve—until the doors started to close, and Tommy shoved his way in.
He didn't waste time. His hands slammed me against the wall, the metal cold against my back, his breath hot and rancid on my face. "Don't think I don't see what you're doing, Leah," he snarled, his voice a low growl. "Sniffing around our family's network. You want in? Show me some fucking sincerity."
My heart thudded, but I kept my voice steady, a little edge of defiance creeping in. "I lost 400 million in one night, Tommy. Isn't that sincere enough?"
His eyes flashed, lips curling back over his teeth. "Soon as my brother wakes up, I'm asking him what the hell happened on that balcony. Until I get answers, you're not leaving Miami. You're stuck here."
I met his stare, unblinking. "I want him awake more than you do, so we can clear this up. His fall wasn't my doing. And you can't cage me here - this is a free country, isn't it?"
He snarled, frustration twisting his face, but he couldn't argue that. Instead, he spat, "Fine. But the foundation in my brother's name - I'm a director, and I need 100 million in start-up cash. In my Swiss account. Tonight."
I nodded, already pulling out my phone. "No problem. Give me the number, and it's done. My father always said, any problem money can fix isn't a real problem. So, Mr. Cosa, anything else I can do for you?"
He hit the stop button, the elevator jerking to a halt, and his eyes raked over me, hungry, predatory. "Yeah, there's something you can help me with right now."
I saw it coming, felt the shift in the air. I stepped closer, my hand brushing his crotch, fingers curling just enough to feel him stiffen. "Happy to assist," I purred, leaning in, letting my breath ghost over his jaw.
Then the fire alarm screamed, shrill and deafening. The elevator lurched, plummeting downward, and Tommy's bravado shattered. He shrieked, a high-pitched wail, and crumpled to the floor, out cold. I didn't hesitate - my hands gripped the doors, claws itching beneath my skin as I pried them open with a grunt. I stepped over his limp body, the doors snapping shut behind me as the elevator rocketed back up.
The lobby was chaos - screams, bodies shoving past, the fire alarm wailing like a wounded beast. Shouts of "Fire on the top floor!" cut through the din. I knew the truth - the detonators in the penthouse safes had blown, sparked by Seth on my signal through the pearl earrings pinned to my lobes. The corrupt bastards up there were ash now, and Tommy was on his way to the same fate.
In the pack, justice was clean. A challenge, a duel, a corpse at dawn. But the human world? Their courts were circuses, their laws spiderwebs meant to trap flies while wolves like the Cosas slithered through. As I was watching the video of the trial on Liam's father's cold case, my human skin itching. Slick lawyers dissected Liam's grief into "insufficient evidence." Liam, sitting in the audience, looking so young and vulnerable, held his arms as if he was cold. I really wished I could sit next to him, holding him in my arms and telling him everything will be alright. I wanted to tear out those lawyers' throats mid-sentence, let the pack's howls echo through that marble courtroom. But my wolf's warning hissed in my ear - "You are a guest here. A shadow. Break their rules, and they'll hunt you like the beast they fear."
So I learned their games. Wore their perfumes, memorized their stock portfolios, let Tommy Cosa's fingers linger on my waist as I whispered lies about everything. Justice wasn't a verdict here - it was a transaction. And I paid in their currency - secrets, seduction, the slow rot of their own greed.
I wove through the crowd, head down, until a groan of metal overhead stopped me cold. The giant ship model hanging from the ceiling buckled, crashing down in a storm of splinters and steel. I braced for the hit - but a shadow swooped in, arms wrapping around me, lifting me off my feet as we barreled out the doors.
I looked up, breath snagging in my throat.
"...Darren?" I gasped, my voice raw, disbelief warring with relief.