Deacon Frost's ambition burned as fiercely as the midday sun pouring across Manhattan. He was done living beneath the weight of the Thirteen Pureblood Council. He was done tolerating their stagnation, their arrogance, their refusal to seize dominance.
Anyone who stood in his way—internally or externally—was already marked. The Thirteen Pureblood Elders who restricted him. The Blade Warrior who treated vampire heads like trophies. And now Locke, the newly risen force who had spent the last month slaughtering vampires without hesitation.
All of them were on his blacklist.
The Elders were powerful—for now. He still needed something from them, something tied to his greater design. So he would comply with their decree not to escalate conflict with the Sentinel Special Service. He would appear obedient. He would appear restrained.
But just because he couldn't act directly didn't mean others couldn't.
For example, the Blade Warrior.
Frost's lips curved slightly.
Imagine the scene: Blade arrives at the hangar tonight and sees him handing Locke two million dollars in cash. What would Blade think?
Blade was merciless with vampires. Even more merciless with humans who willingly served them as blood servants. If he witnessed what appeared to be cooperation between a federal agent and the vampire leader of New York—
Frost chuckled under his breath.
Whatever happened next wouldn't be his responsibility. If Blade killed them, that had nothing to do with vampires. After all, he would merely be honoring the Council's order not to personally provoke the Sentinels.
His smile sharpened.
Just wait, you thirteen relics. When I obtain the Blood God, your era ends. A man born between heaven and earth does not remain suppressed beneath others forever.
He turned abruptly, tossing aside his bathrobe as he walked back toward the bedroom. The interior exuded indulgent decadence.
Inside, kneeling on the floor, was a woman. Blade's biological mother. Her expression was soft, eager.
"Woo—"
Back in Queens, Debbie's voice cut through the air.
"No. It's too dangerous. Boss, you can't go."
Brown nodded firmly beside her. "There's no way we let you walk into that alone."
Locke slipped the phone back into his pocket and studied the two of them, who looked ready to physically restrain him if necessary. He couldn't help laughing.
"When did I say I was going alone?"
They both froze.
"Wait," Debbie blinked. "Didn't you just agree—"
"The Sentinel Special Service doesn't negotiate with criminals."
Brown stared at him for a second, then exhaled sharply.
Of course.
Go alone? That would be suicide. Frost was the leader of New York's vampire underworld. No matter how highly Locke regarded himself, there was no scenario where walking in solo made tactical sense.
Locke adjusted his cuffs slightly, tone light but eyes steady. "As long as I'm alive, I'll get stronger. I don't need to gamble against someone whose future I can already see."
Brown relaxed visibly. "So we notify the bureau? Mobilize the response team to the hangar?"
Locke shook his head. "No."
Brown frowned. "Why?"
Then something clicked. His eyes narrowed. "There's a mole."
Locke met his gaze and nodded once.
They had learned about it a month ago, after striking a quiet arrangement with Blade. During one of Blade's sweeps through a hidden vampire bar, he'd found a Sentinel badge on the floor.
That meant one of two things.
Either a Sentinel agent had been killed and served as dessert…
Or someone inside the bureau was working for the vampires.
Eternal life was not a temptation most people could casually refuse.
It also explained something else. After Blade raised the suspicion, Natasha had privately mentioned that Blade once believed Locke himself might be a blood servant.
Locke had understood that immediately. That night Natasha had kissed him everywhere—not out of romance, but inspection. Blood servants bore a distinctive mark.
Fortunately, Locke had accidentally discovered that Thunder Bourbon restored his lowered body temperature.
"Right," he muttered now.
He pulled the small bottle from his pocket and took a measured drink. Warmth spread through him, pushing his body temperature back to normal. He recapped it and looked at Debbie.
"Any agents report lost badges?"
"No," she said, frustrated. "And even if they had, not everyone reports that. You know how many agents work in that building. Internal Affairs opens investigations over lost credentials. Most people won't risk it."
She wasn't wrong. Reporting a lost badge meant scrutiny. For something many agents didn't even carry daily.
Which was precisely why Locke and Natasha's cooperation remained unofficial.
There were bad actors in the bureau. That much was certain.
But they'd surface eventually.
Locke shifted gears. "Debbie, head back to the bureau. Sit in the command center. I want Sentinel satellite coverage on that hangar by three p.m."
She nodded immediately.
"Lock it down. Monitor every movement around the abandoned hangar. I won't be alone—and Frost won't either."
He was certain of that.
A so-called solo meeting? Frost was still a leader. Leaders didn't drive themselves to deserted airfields. Pride alone would ensure that.
At minimum, there would be a driver. Possibly more.
Locke turned to Brown. "You've got the ultraviolet sniper rounds?"
"Yes."
"Good."
Locke rubbed his chin thoughtfully.
Brown watched his expression and began to piece it together. Then he hesitated. "What about the two million?"
Locke looked at him.
A slow smile spread across his face.
"Only children pick one option."
Brown blinked. "Meaning?"
"I want everything."
Locke extended his right hand toward Brown and closed it into a fist.
...
Read the next 3 chapters for free on my p@treon.
Premium members get to read ahead by more than 60 chapters.
Link : [email protected]/Dream_Guardian