Leah's POV
The clock on my wrist ticked like a smug little bastard, each second a jab at my nerves as I stood there, plotting culinary carnage. Six hours until the Miami Mayor's Annual Seafood Charity Dinner, and I was about to turn a fancy gala into a symphony of gurgles and groans. The TV blared in the background, some chipper anchor rattling on about celebrity cars rolling up to the hotel—shiny Bentleys and Teslas, all ferrying the rich and famous to their doom. I smirked, imagining them clutching their pearls and their stomachs by night's end.
I glanced over at Seth, who was practically hypnotized by Sharbo's lazy laps in the shark tank. The kid's mop of hair flopped over his eyes, and he looked like he'd rather be anywhere but here, plotting with me. I gave his shoulder a solid pat, jolting him back to reality. "It's time, Seth."
He blinked at me, all wide-eyed and twitchy, then fumbled for his laptop like it was his security blanket. His fingers danced over the keys, a blur of geeky brilliance, and he grinned up at me. "Done."
I leaned in, peering at the screen. The temperature gauge for Blue Ocean Cold Chain Company's No. 117 cold storage stared back at me, smug as hell. It had climbed from a frosty -2 degrees to a balmy 15. Perfect. Those lobsters - destined for tonight's swanky plates - were about to turn into little bacterial grenades. I could almost hear them cackling in their icy prison.
Seth tilted his head, scratching at his chin like a confused puppy. "Remind me why we're doing this again? I mean, I get the chaos part, but… why lobsters?"
I grabbed a slimy fish from the bucket by Sharbo's tank and tossed it in, watching the shark snap it up with a flick of its tail. "Those crusty little suckers are the main course for the charity dinner," I said, wiping my hands on my jeans. "With the temperature jacked up, the bacteria'll throw a rave in there. By dessert, every celebrity and bigwig will be sprinting for the bathrooms, clutching their guts. And then we come to step two - we anonymously tip off the FDA with the cold chain data. They'll raid the storage, and..."
"And they will find the Cosa family's stash of contraband totoaba bladders, and bam - egg on their faces, and a dent in their empire." Seth's jaw dropped, his eyes sparkling with that mix of awe and terror I loved so much. "And then they'll bust in and catch 'em all, right? Like Pokémon, but with mobsters!"
I snorted, shaking my head. "Not quite, kid. Illegal marine trafficking's a slap on the wrist for a crew like the Cosa family. It's not a knockout punch - it's a jab. I'm playing the long game here. I want them gone, wiped off the map, their whole slimy network in ashes."
He stared at me, his mouth hanging open, and I swear Sharbo mirrored him - those big, empty shark eyes gawking like I'd just declared war on the ocean itself. Seth finally sputtered, "Boss, they're the underworld force on the East Coast. Billions in cash, at least forty core goons - I dug up that list for you, remember? How're you gonna take down a beast that size?"
"Just wait and see, my little tech gremlin. I've got moves you haven't even dreamed of."
Before he could argue, his attention snapped to the TV like a moth to a flame. "Wow, that werewolf!"
I froze, my heart doing a weird little flip. "What?"
I had to suppress the instinct of flashing out my claws and end his life.
He pointed at the screen, practically bouncing. There, stepping out of a sleek black car, was Lycidas Winters - tall, handsome, and oozing that Hollywood charm I hadn't seen in years. My breath hitched. Lycidas? He's really come to the East Coast.
Seth was already rambling, his voice hitting that pitch only fanboys can reach. "That's Lycidas Winters! Hollywood royalty! I used his last name for your fake ID, remember? His werewolf cowboy series is blowing up - huge, boss, huge!"
I frowned, trying to wrap my head around it. I'd known Lycidas had been exiled by the Old King from the Kingdom, but… "Werewolf cowboy? What the hell is that?"
Seth's fingers flew over his laptop again, pulling up clips faster than I could blink. There he was - Lycidas, decked out in a cheap werewolf costume, all patchy fur and ripped jeans, snarling at other equally ridiculous wolves. I squinted at the screen, half-expecting it to be a prank. "This is a thing? People watch this?"
"Are you kidding?" Seth practically shrieked. "Clips of this get millions of likes on TikTok! It's bigger than Star Wars now! Lycidas is a god out there - he could sneeze on camera and they'd call it art!"
I rubbed my temples, swiping through the stills he'd pulled up. Lycidas howling at a fake moon, Lycidas wrestling a guy in a worse costume, Lycidas - wait. My finger stopped dead. In one blurry shot, way off in the background of the set, someone was staring at him. Hard. I leaned closer, my pulse kicking up.
Finn?
Finn. My ex-brother-in-law-and-source-of-tormant Finn. The jigsaw pieces of my life clicked into place so fast I nearly dropped the laptop. He'd found Lycidas. Of course he had. They were made for each other like two fucking magnets.
"I have to see him," I thought to myself.
"Are you crazy?!" My wolf yelled at me in my mind. "Haven't you heard what Darren said? Lycidas wants to kill you!"
"He can't kill me in front of the camera. He sent Darren to kill me, but Darren failed the task and ran away. Now Darren must be captured by him. I have to go and get Darren out."
My wolf went hysterical. "Darren Swanson wanted you dead! He betrayed you and..."
"Well, can you blame him?" I interrupted her calmly.
My wolf went silent.
"Liam!" I barked, louder than I meant to.
A splash answered me, and Liam hauled himself out of the pool, water streaming off his stupidly perfect body. He shook his head like a golden retriever, droplets flying everywhere, and fixed me with those eager, puppy-dog eyes. "What?"
I tossed him a towel, trying not to ogle the way his muscles flexed as he caught it. "Get the car ready. We're crashing the charity dinner tonight."
He grinned, shaking out his hair again - more water splattered my face, and I yelped, wiping it off. "Okay. Tux or no tux?"
I reached over and ruffled his damp mop, treating him like the big, goofy dog he was. "No tux. Low profile, remember? The Cosa family'll be there, and they think I'm six feet under. Let's not ruin the surprise. We slip in, stir the pot, and slip out - no autographs, no mugshots."
Seth piped up from the couch, his voice small but insistent. "Boss, why don't you ever take me to these shindigs?"
I turned, narrowing my eyes with a playful smirk. "You want in? Fine, you're invited. Tonight's your big debut."
His face went white as a sheet, and he flailed his hands like I'd just sentenced him to death. "Oh no, no, no! A room full of strangers, packed in tight, eating spoiled lobster and staring at each other? My social anxiety would explode! I'd be wheezing into a paper bag before the appetizers hit! What if Sharbo gets lonely? What if there's a leak on the water tank? Oh, no. I can feel my throat closing up just thinking about it - am I dying? Is this it?"
I chuckled, holding up my hands to calm him. "Easy, Seth, easy! No one's dragging you anywhere. Look, you're freaking Sharbo out."
He whipped around to the tank, where Sharbo was indeed staring at him, those blank eyes wide and judgmental. Seth sucked in a dramatic breath, clutching his chest. "Okay, okay, I'm good. I'll stay here, hold down the fort. Just… keep me posted, yeah?"
"Deal," I said, still chuckling. "Stand by the phone. I might need your magic fingers later. And..." I saw Liam headed to me, toweling off.
I turned my face toward the other side and said to Seth, "Be a good boy and bring Liam another towel, will you?"