Page 16 of Fangs & Freaks
“I was preoccupied,” he says, the lazy grin returning. “What does it matter? She didn’t look like she could hurt a fly.”
“You’re a fucking idiot,” I growl, the beast within me clawing to the surface. I take a step closer, looming over him. “Do you have any idea who she is? What she’s capable of? I don’t want that shit in my MC.”
Blackwell’s grin fades completely, and for once, his posture straightens. “Alright, alright. She’s bad news. But what are we supposed to do about it? She’s not exactly the kind of problem you can bite and be done with.”
“No,” I admit, running a hand through my hair. “But we can’t just sit around waiting for her to show up and start collecting on whatever debt Varys owes her.”
His gaze sharpens at the mention of Varys, his lips twitching like he’s holding back a smirk.
“You really can’t help yourself, can you?” I ask.
“What the hell are you talking about?” he snaps.
“Varys,” I growl. “You’re hung up on him. I can tell by the look on your face when I said his name.”
Blackwell smirks, unapologetic. “Can you blame me? He’s got this whole ‘trouble wrapped in a bow’ vibe. Pretty hard to resist.”
His confession sends a flare of heat through me—not anger, not entirely, but something just as dangerous. My silence stretches too long, and Blackwell picks up on it like a shark scenting blood.
“Shit,” he says, his grin slow and sharp. “You are into him. Well, that makes two of us.”
I whirl on him, the tension snapping like a whip. “Don’t even think about it, Blackwell.”
He chuckles, unfazed. “What? You get to admire him and I don’t? He’s a damn unicorn, Warrick. Pretty sure there’s enough magic there to go around.”
My jaw clenches, and I glare at him, the possessive edge in my tone undeniable. “This isn’t some fucking game. Varys is?—”
“Varys is in trouble,” Blackwell cuts in, his smirk fading to something serious. “And if he’s brought Bloody Mary into this, then he’s made it our trouble too. So maybe we put a pin in whatever… tension is brewing here, and figure out how to handle it. Together.”
I stare at him for a beat too long, but eventually, I nod, the unspoken agreement settling between us. For now.
Blackwell studies me, his sharp blue eyes narrowing. “So, what’s the plan?”
I hesitate, my mind racing as I try to come up with one. “We find out exactly what she wants. And if it’s something we can’t give, we figure out how to stop her.”
His lips twitch like he wants to argue, but he nods. “Alright, Warrick. But if this goes sideways, I’m not taking the blame. I’m not the one who took this case. If memory serves, you were.”
“Don’t worry,” I say darkly. “If it goes sideways, there won’t be anyone left to blame.”
Later that night, I stand alone in my office, the flickering lamp casting long shadows across the walls. The others have long since retired, leaving the clubhouse in an uneasy silence.
I lift a glass of blood-wine to my lips, the sharp, coppery tang grounding me as I let the events of the day replay in my mind. Varys’ fear. Vienna’s desperation. Blackwell’s careless grin. And looming over it all, the shadow of Bloody Mary.
I close my eyes and Blackwell’s description of her forms in my mind. Pale as death, lips like a wound, eyes that seem to strip away every defense.
She’s not just a legend. She’s a predator, one who thrives on terror and despair. And now, thanks to Varys, she’s been unleashed.
The door creaks open behind me, and Blackwell steps inside. “Can’t sleep?”
“Obviously,” I mutter, not bothering to turn around.
“So... Bloody Mary, huh?”
I finally glance over my shoulder, and his crooked grin fades when he catches my expression.
“She’s hot,” he says quickly, as though the comment might lift my mood. “You know, for someone who’s apparently a nightmare walking around in the flesh.”
My grip tightens on the glass. “Hot,” I echo flatly. “That’s your takeaway?”
