Page 12 of Feral Possession

Marcus had no doubt his uncle believed those words with every fiber of his being. Unfortunately, Marcus was responsible for more than Tiberius’s passion projects. As lord, it was Marcus’s job to keep their coffers full. “The casino I built will turn a dependable profit in a handful of years.”

“Despite the bad press you earned during the grand opening?” Tiberius dared to taunt.

Marcus bit back a furious reply. Taking his uncle’s bait would only encourage him to pick the scab. Marcus’s only regret in building the casino was putting too much trust in his Chief Financial Officer during its construction. Helen had used the building costs to steal from him while laundering money for a local zealot, Zion. When Marcus grew suspicious and poked his nose into the books, she decided to get rid of him. Permanently.

At the reminder, darkness welled in his core. The fire, pain, so much pain. No. Not now. Not in front of Tiberius. Marcus clenched his fists, shoving the memory back to the darkest recesses of his mind.

The explosion and his near-death experience at the grand opening had garnered a lot of attention. Proving there was no such thing as bad press. As a result, the casino was seeing record numbers.

Forcing an even tone, Marcus said, “You of all people should understand how the underworld thrives on intrigue, deceit, and violence. Hell, you’re the one who built an entire campaign on it.” Tiberius had used the violence and bloodshed of the underworld’s past to lure his voters into believing they needed stronger leadership, along with stricter rules.

Tiberius snorted, smirking. “So I did.”

“Speaking of deceit and violence, I’ve heard the task force you created to eliminate Zion and his growing rebellion performed dozens of arrests this week. The civilians are calling it a witch hunt.”

Tiberius hummed a disgruntled sound. “Only those with something to hide have reason for concern.”

“Have they made any progress toward finding the bastard?” Not that Marcus really cared when he had issues of his own. Except that Zion was behind Helen’s betrayal. She’d sided with the zealot, choosing him over Marcus. Find one, you’d find the other.

“They’ve made far more progress than that idiot Victor Custodis ever did,” Tiberius declared, slapping the desk.

Victor Custodis, Clan Leader of the Eastern Realm, had been head of the Council’s security for decades and was tasked with hunting Zion. Until Tiberius, displeased with his results, used his position as magister to take control of the investigation. Forcing Victor to stand down on the Zion issue was no small matter.

Tiberius thrust his index finger in Marcus’s direction. “Those civilians should be thanking me instead of whining. With the case in Victor’s incapable hands, Zion ran amok, gathering followers, growing, prospering. It was past time someone stepped in and took the clan leader down a notch. Victor operates as though he is above the law. If the underworld understood half of what went on behind his doors, they’d demand his head.”

Since Tiberius became magister, he and Victor had been at war, both posturing without striking. While Tiberius held the title of Council magister, Victor had centuries of experience and thousands of allies. Many wondered why he’d never made a run for magister himself.

“You realize crossing Victor could either prove genius or fatal for you and your career.”

Menace gleamed in his uncle’s eyes. “A calculated risk I have well in hand.”

Marcus snorted. And Tiberius believed it was Marcus who’d gambled, investing in an underworld casino rather than useless artifacts.

“Is this why you’re here?” Marcus’s pounding temples urged him to ask. He’d passed the point of exhaustion hours ago. “To discuss investments and debate politics?”

Tiberius’s scowl deepened. “Unfortunately, I’ve come with news better delivered in person than by phone. Good thing, since you rarely answer yours.”

Marcus pursed his lips. More and more, his uncle was sounding like an old woman. “I’m listening.”

“My task force has uncovered something unsettling.” Tiberius locked his shoulders into place, bracing like he did the night he told a much younger Marcus his last remaining parent had been murdered. “During this so-called witch hunt, my men found evidence that incriminates you as a conspirator as well.”

Breath hissed from Marcus’s lungs. “The hell you say.”

“She left a paper trail wide enough to make it appear as though you were behind the whole money laundering scheme. That you faked the attempt on your life to cover up your crime. And while I’m certain of your innocence, I have a duty to fulfill. While we are cracking down on any hint of conspiracy, arresting anyone with a remote connection to Zion, I cannot show favoritism.”

“You’re washing your hands of me.” At a time when Marcus could use the magister’s backing.

“My direct involvement could cast further suspicion on you, making it seem you had something to hide.”

“Wouldn’t want the Council to accuse you of abusing your power.” Bitterness tainted his words.

“Careful,” Tiberius growled. “Besides, you’re one to speak of negligence. When did you last meet with your House officers? I’ve heard rumors your second has taken advantage of your absence, overstepping himself. Placing himself in a position to challenge you.”

Marcus had heard the same but hadn’t the time to deal with it properly. He gritted his teeth. “I’ve had other issues on my plate.”

“Issues like chasing after Helen on your own. I told you to let my team handle things. They’re far more reliable than Victor’s lot of cutthroats and mercenaries. I have complete confidence they’ll find Helen and clear your name, or I wouldn’t have stepped back from your case. This obsession of yours is proving detrimental to your recovery and compromising your position as the Lord of House Othonos. Just look at you, limping around like an invalid, hiding your face beneath a hood like Quasimodo.”

If his uncle only knew what was under this hood, he wouldn’t be so glib. “Both my recovery and lordship are my business,” Marcus snapped, his patience at its end.

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