The moon hung low over the Kuje woodlands, a sliver of white bone against the velvet sky. It was a beautiful night for a felony.
Lucas Kane wiped a smear of grease from his cheek, crouching in the shadow of a massive Caterpillar excavator. The construction site was silent, save for the rhythmic chirping of crickets and the distant hum of the Abuja highway.
"You know," a voice whispered from the darkness to his left. "When you said we were going to 'handle' the situation, I assumed we were going to file an injunction. Maybe call a few council members."
Marcus, Lucas's Beta and oldest friend, stepped into the moonlight. He looked out of place in tactical gear, adjusting his glasses nervously. Marcus was the brains of the River Pack, a man who preferred spreadsheets to street fights.
"Injunctions take weeks, Marcus," Lucas grunted, sliding onto his back beneath the chassis of the machine. "Voss breaks ground on Monday. I don't have weeks."
"So, vandalism. That's the plan?"
"It's not vandalism," Lucas corrected, his voice straining as he gripped the main hydraulic line. "It's... aggressive renegotiation."
With a sharp snap and a grunt of exertion, Lucas didn't cut the line—he uncoupled it. He didn't want oil spilling into the soil; the land was sacred. He moved with the precision of a surgeon, disconnecting the drive shaft and removing the starter relays.
He slid out from under the machine, tossing a handful of spark plugs to Marcus. "Catch."
Marcus fumbled them, sighing. "She's going to know it was us, Lucas. Selene Voss isn't stupid. She's been running this city since before Nigeria was a country."
"Let her know." Lucas stood up, dusting off his hands. He looked out over the clearing. Dozens of yellow machines stood like sleeping giants. By sunrise, none of them would wake up. "I told her chaos was coming. I'm a man of my word."
He walked over to the survey markers—bright orange stakes driven into the red earth. He could smell the age of the soil here. It smelled of iron and memory. Beneath his boots, deep underground, he could feel the faint, sickly thrum of the binding spell his ancestors had woven. It was weak.
If Selene's drills went down more than twenty meters, they'd crack the seal wide open.
"We're done here," Lucas said, his mood darkening. "Let's move before her ghouls show up for the shift change."
"Lucas," Marcus said, pausing by a bulldozer. "Look at this."
Lucas walked over. On the side of the machine, freshly painted in the corporate logo of Voss Holdings, someone had slapped a sticker. It wasn't a pack symbol. It was a crude drawing of a bleeding eye.
Lucas frowned, tracing the edge of the sticker. It smelled of sulfur and rot.
"Rogues?" Marcus asked, his voice tight.
"Maybe," Lucas ripped the sticker off, crumbling it in his fist. "Or maybe Voss is inviting worse things than vampires to the party. Let's go."
The morning sun hit the glass walls of Selene's office with a vengeance, but the polarization filters turned the glare into a soft, cool glow
Selene sat behind her desk, staring at the tablet screen. Her face was a mask of terrifying calm.
"Total incapacitation?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
Elara nodded, looking like she would rather be anywhere else in the solar system. "Yes, Ma'am. The engines weren't destroyed. They were... disassembled. The pistons are stacked in pyramids. The wiring harnesses were braided into decorative knots. The hydraulic fluid was drained into barrels, not a drop spilled."
Selene swiped to the next photo. A massive dump truck sat on cinder blocks, its tires missing.
A small, reluctant smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. "He has a sense of humor. I'll give him that."
"The site foreman is furious," Elara continued. "He says it will take two weeks to reassemble everything and source the missing parts. The 'missing parts' being the starter motors, which were found arranged to spell the word 'NO' on the roof of the site office."
Selene set the tablet down. "He's mocking me."
"He's stalling you," Elara corrected. "And it worked. We can't break ground Monday."
Selene stood up and walked to the window. Below, the city of Abuja was waking up, oblivious to the supernatural chess game being played in its skyscrapers. Lucas Kane thought he had won a round. He thought that by acting like a brute, he could force her to back down.
He clearly didn't understand how billionaire vampires fought.
"Elara, pull up the River Pack's financial portfolio."
"Already on screen, Ma'am."
Selene turned back to the room. "Lucas runs 'Kane Security Solutions,' correct? They hold the contracts for the Central Bank, the Diplomatic Zone, and the oil pipeline surveillance in the Delta."
"Yes. It's their primary income source. It funds the pack's housing, their school... everything."
"And who insures those contracts?"
Elara tapped her screen. "Global trust... which is a subsidiary of... oh." Elara looked up, eyes wide. "Voss Holdings."
"Precisely." Selene leaned against the desk, crossing her ankles. "Trigger a risk assessment audit on Kane Security. Cite 'unstable leadership' and 'potential criminal activity.' Freeze their insurance policies immediately. Without insurance, they're in breach of contract. Their clients will have to drop them within twenty-four hours."
Elara hesitated. "Selene, that will bankrupt them. There are families in that pack. Children."
Selene's eyes flashed—a momentary flicker of red. The image of Lucas leaning over her desk, smelling of rain and arrogance, flashed in her mind. I don't do lawsuits. I do teeth.
"He wanted a war, Elara," Selene said, her voice dropping to absolute zero. "He attacked my project. He threatened my timeline. If he wants to play in the dirt, he can stay there."
She picked up her stylus and tapped the desk.
"Do it. Freeze every account linked to Lucas Kane. Let's see how loud the Wolf barks when he can't buy steak."
Lucas was in the middle of a sparring session when the call came.
He was shirtless, sweat gleaming on his dark skin as he dodged a haymaker from one of his younger enforcers. He swept the boy's legs, sending him crashing onto the mats of the pack gym.
"Dead," Lucas panted, grinning down at the kid. "You overextended. Again."
"Phone for you, Alpha," Marcus called out from the sidelines. He looked pale. Paler than usual.
Lucas grabbed a towel, wiping his face as he walked over. "If it's the construction foreman crying about his Lego set, tell him to file a complaint."
"It's not the foreman," Marcus said, handing him the phone. "It's the bank."
Lucas frowned, taking the device. "Kane speaking."
He listened for thirty seconds. The silence in the gym grew heavy. The playful energy of the sparring session evaporated as the pack members watched their Alpha's posture shift. His shoulders locked. The muscles in his back coiled like steel cables. A low growl started deep in his chest, involuntary and vibrating through the phone.
"On whose authority?" Lucas snarled into the receiver.
A pause.
"I see."
Lucas crushed the phone.
It didn't just crack; it shattered, plastic and glass exploding in his hand. He dropped the debris onto the mat.
"Lucas?" Marcus stepped forward cautiously.
"She froze it," Lucas said, his voice dangerously quiet. "She froze everything. The operating accounts, the payroll, the insurance. The Central Bank just canceled our contract effective immediately."
The gym was dead silent. Losing the contracts wasn't just a setback; it was a death sentence for the pack's way of life. It meant no money for the clinic, no supplies for the elders.
Lucas looked at his hand, a small shard of glass embedded in his palm. He didn't feel it. All he felt was a red-hot inferno of rage.
He had treated this like a skirmish. He had played a prank.
Selene Voss had just tried to starve his family.
"Get the SUV," Lucas ordered, turning to grab his shirt.
"Where are we going?" Marcus asked, though he already knew.
Lucas pulled his shirt on, his eyes glowing a bright, furious gold.
"There's a gala at the Transcorp Hilton tonight," Lucas said, heading for the door. "The Supernatural Council's annual masquerade. I know she'll be there."
"Lucas, you can't start a fight at the Council Gala. It's neutral ground. The truce—"
"The truce is dead," Lucas roared, spinning around, his canines fully descended. "She killed it."
He stormed out into the blinding Nigerian sun.
He wasn't going to dismantle her car this time. He was going to look her in the eye and show her exactly what happens when you corner a wolf.