Page 12 of Psycho Beasts

However, surviving the fae realm might have given me a tad bit of false confidence.

I was instantly humbled.

The room was dimly lit with about a dozen men seated against the far wall. All of them wore business suits and sunglasses.

Cigarettes and cigars hung from their lips and created a hazy cloud of smoke in the small room.

A distinct burnt scent wafted from them. Betas.

But the most disturbing element was how each beta held a massive machine gun. They glowed blue with enchantment and were bigger and fancier than any weapon I’d ever seen.

At least a dozen red dots were trained on all of us.

Immortal alphas could only die two ways: having all their blood drained from their body and being decapitated, or being shot with an enchanted bullet.

Slowly, I shifted in front of Lucinda.

Jax whispered, “Get behind me.” Jess, Jala, and Jinx slowly moved so his large frame blocked them.

There was a soft clack as a pair of expensive dress shoes walked out from the dark shadow in the room’s corner.

A deep voice asked slowly, “Is it true? My long-lost son has returned?” He enunciated each word oddly, and they blended together, as if he was overcompensating for a lisp.

My jaw dropped as he stepped forward into the dim light.

Gasps sounded.

He could have been Cobra’s twin.

Familiar emerald eyes gleamed with menace.

The only differences were his black hair hung long, his pale skin wasn’t embedded with diamonds, “Loyalty” sprawled across the front of his neck in massive, tattooed letters, and a frosty scent didn’t waft off him.

He smelled like oil and rubber. A musky, intense scent that made his presence impossible to miss.

The man’s suit was immaculate, and his crystal accessories practically screamed wealth.

A massive white snake draped casually over his wide shoulders.

The snake was so large that its tail rested on the ground, and its head raised high in the air. It towered above its owner’s six-foot-five frame.

Still, he had the same sinful lips, high cheekbones, and chiseled jaw. Same gorgeous complexion that seemed too perfect to be real.

But there was no doubt this was Cobra’s father.

The don of the city.

Cobra stood eerily still as he stared across the room at his father, but his face gave away zero emotions.

My gut told me this would not be a joyful reunion.

It would be a miracle if we walked out alive.

The don took a long drag of his cigarette and blew smoke into the air. His emerald eyes were cold and sharp, the white snake hissing on his neck.

He was a predator.

The don sucked in smoke casually. “Prove to me you’re my son right now, or my men will open fire. Then, while you’re incapacitated, they’ll decapitate each and every one of you. We’ll hang your bodies from the streetlights.”

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