Page 2 of French Quarter Heiress

A murmur of confusion and outrage sweeps through the crowd. I hold up my hands, silencing them.

"Now, now, there's no need for alarm," I continue. "We're here to make sure that everyone has a good time. And by 'good time,' I mean emptying your pockets and handing over all your valuables."

Marcel and the others fan out through the room, their claws extended, weapons out, fangs bared.

The patrons shrink back in fear, some of them reaching for weapons that they don't have.

I stroll over to the bar, helping myself to a bottle of top-shelf whiskey. "You see," I say conversationally. "The Crescent City Wolves are rising up. And we're not afraid to take what we want." I savor the burn of the alcohol as it slides down my throat. "So, let's make this easy, shall we? Hand over your money, your jewelry, and anything else of value, and we'll be on our way."

After relieving them of their goods, I nod to Marcel, keeping my pistol leveled at the vampires. "Watch 'em closely. If they so much as twitch, put a bullet in their kneecaps."

I stride confidently towards the back office, a couple of our burliest enforcers flanking me with street sweepers. As we round the corner, we come face to face with three vampires, their eyes glowing red with anger and hunger.

"Reach for the sky, leeches!" I bark, leveling my pistol at the lead vampire's chest. The bloodsuckers hiss in fury, but they can see they're outgunned.

"You've just signed your death warrant, wolf," the leader snarls. "This is Delacroix territory."

I let out a harsh laugh. "Not anymore, it ain't. Now, one of you is going to tell me real nicely where the safe is, or things are gonna get messy."

The vampires hiss in indignation, but a warning shot from Jimmy’s sawed off quickly silences them. They exchange glances, their faces a mix of rage and fear. Finally, the leader nods towards a large painting on the far wall. "Behind there," he spits out.

With a predatory grin, I saunter over to the painting, running my fingers along the ornate frame. "So, this is what you bloodsuckers consider art, huh? No wonder you're all so damn pretentious."

I tear the painting from the wall, revealing the safe hidden behind it.

"Now then," I growl, turning back to the vampires. "One of you is going to be real helpful and give me the combination to this thing. Otherwise, I might just start getting curious about what vampire fangs go for. Wouldn’t mind a set, myself."

The lead vampire sneers, his fangs glinting in the low light. "You wouldn't dare, wolf. The Delacroix clan would hunt you to the ends of the earth."

I laugh, a cold and mirthless sound. "Buddy, by the time we're done, there won't be enough left of the Delacroix to hunt a cockroach, let alone a wolf."

I take a step towards the vampire, my hand drifting down to the hilt of my silver dagger. "Last chance, leech. The code, or your teeth. What's it gonna be?"

The vampire glares at me for a long moment, hatred burning in his eyes. But as I start to draw my dagger, he finally relents. "3-7-2-8," he spits out, as if the numbers are poison on his tongue.

With a triumphant grin, I twist in the code and the safe swings open, revealing the glittering treasure trove within.

"See, that wasn't so hard, was it?" I taunt the vampires as I start shoveling cash and jewels into a sack. "You should try being more cooperative, it might just save your miserable lives one day."

The vampires seethe with impotent fury, but they're powerless to stop us. As Marcel and I make our way out, our loot slung over our shoulders, I pause in the doorway and look back at our vanquished foes.

"Give my regards to Don Delacroix," I say with a mocking bow. "And let him know that the Crescent City Wolves send their thanks for the generous donation."

With that, we disappear into the night, leaving the vampires to lick their wounds and ponder the new pecking order in New Orleans.

Back at the warehouse, the energy is electric. My brothers are riding high on the success of the heist, our pockets flush with cash and spirits soaring. It feels good to rise up in the pecking order. But we earned it.

And let’s be real. Everyone hates the vampires. It’s about damn time we got a change of management.

Luc stands on the table as king of this madness, pack going wild, hooting and howling and passing shots around. "You see that, boys?" He calls out. "We take what we want! The vampires aren’t unstoppable. They bleed just like us, boys." He jumps down. “It's time to take things to the next level. We've been hitting the bloodsuckers where it hurts, but it's time to hit them where they live."

He turns to face the pack, his voice rising with excitement. "I'm talking about opening up our own speakeasies right in the heart of vampire territory. I'm talking about taking over their turf, one block at a time."

Murmurs of excitement ripple through the crowd. Some of the wolves look nervous, but the rest of the pack is losing it.

"Who's with me? Who's ready to make mainstreet profits? I’m talking the movers and shakers, the Hollywood darling’s and starlets. Our very own slice of the big easy. What do you say wolves?"

A roar of approval shakes the rafters, and I feel a rush of adrenaline coursing through my veins. This is what I live for – the thrill of the hunt, the rush of power.

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