Page 16 of Stroke of Shadows

“How so?” Sythe raised a single brow while casually lifting the bottle to his lips and discreetly spitting the blue pill into it. He had no idea what it was, but mixing it with the cocaine he’d already consumed was a sure way to piss off his beast.

“We’re different in the way we see things, Sy. Like I said, not many people can deal with what I do.” Wyatt’s bloodshot eyes flicked over Sythe’s shoulder. “Fuck.”

“Hey mate, you okay?” Sythe stood, turning to see what caught Wyatt’s attention. He followed his line of sight to an older man making his way towards one of the VIP rooms. “Who’s that?” he asked, already knowing the answer.

Thick build, greying hair, and a meanly pinched face.

Angel Beauchamp.

Wyatt said nothing as he stepped out of their booth, his movements stiff. Sythe followed tightly behind, his reflexes stopping him from colliding with Wyatt when he was forced to a halt.

“No entry,” a man sneered, his head freshly shaved close to his scalp. Sythe recognised him as Angel’s personal bodyguard, Ivan Kozlov.

“Move out my fucking way,” Wyatt snarled back. “You know I’m supposed to be included in the meetings.”

Ivan widened his stance, face perfectly blank. “You weren’t invited,” he replied, his accent slight.

Sythe had done enough research to know who Mr Kozlov was, the only member of staff to have residence inside the Beauchamp estate and Angel’s personal Guard.

Wyatt clenched his jaw. “Father!” he shouted, only to be quickly pinned against the wall. Sythe moved, almost breaking Ivan’s wrist as he removed Wyatt from his grasp.

“Wanna try that with me, big boy?” Sythe said, his smile teasing. “I promise I’ll make it hurt real good.”

Ivan barely reacted, his anger only evident in the slight reddening of his face. “Stay here,” he commanded, turning his glare to Wyatt. “Your father will be with you when he’s free.”

“Touch me again,” Wyatt threatened, “and you’re dead.” His fists clenched as if to stop himself from a fight. “Now get out of my fucking way.” He shoved past Ivan, hand grasping the handle enough for the door to nudge open.

“The goods were less than promised, again. There seems to be a running theme amongst—”

Sythe knocked Ivan to the side, allowing Wyatt to scramble into the room. “Father!”

The man sat opposite Angel glared at the intrusion. “What’s this?” he snapped.

Angel’s expression was hard, his eyes sharp when they settled on his son. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll be right back.” Carefully standing from his seat, Angel adjusted his sleeves. He stepped towards his son, forcing him out of the room.

“You were supposed to call me,” Wyatt whispered angrily, the words pushed through clenched teeth. “You promised I’d be included in—”

With a controlled movement, Angel’s hand snapped out, gripping Wyatt’s jaw tightly. “You’re high,” he said, his tone cold enough to cause frostbite. “You’re an embarrassment coming here and acting entitled in front of our biggest buyer.”

“No, that’s not—”

With a disgusted sneer, Angel shoved Wyatt away. “You really think I’d trust such an important meeting with you? Look at you, you’re a fucking disgrace.”

Wyatt stood there with colour along his cheekbones, his nostrils flaring.

“Call Charles and get fucking home.”

Wyatt unclenched his fists. “I can make my own way.”

“Then do it.” Angel’s ice-blue eyes settled on Sythe for the briefest second before he returned to the room, the door slamming shut seconds later.

Ivan remained silent, moving to block the door with his body. Wyatt tensed, and Sythe prepared himself for a fight, but instead, Wyatt turned on his heel and stormed towards the exit. Sythe followed him into the cool night air, the click of the lighter the only sound as Wyatt fought with the spark.

“Fucking thing never works when I need it to,” he grumbled.

“Who was that?” Sythe tucked his hands in his pockets.

“That would be my father.” Wyatt laughed, the sound holding a bitter edge. “It’s a family business, yet I’m treated like an outsider. Without me, he’d have nothing.”

---