Page 24 of Stroke of Shadows

He knew the estate stretched over twenty thousand square feet, and was bordered with an iron and silver wrought metal fence. The house was five stories, including the underground garage. He’d studied the blueprint enough times to walk around the place blindfolded.

The grounds itself was in the millions alone, not including the house. The size a rare find so deep within the city, and oozed so much fucking money it made his teeth ache.

Wyatt vibrated with a nervous energy beside him, his hands clenched at his sides. “You need to show him respect, yeah?” he said, eyes direct when they met Sythe’s. “He’s not a man to be told no. Don’t fuck this up.”

“Sure.” Sythe kept a step behind, allowing Wyatt to lead him towards the study.

Angel Beauchamp stood with his back to the door, staring into a roaring fire. One arm was behind his back, head slightly dipped to the dancing flames. Ivan stood to his left, dressed in a suit as equally as expensive, with a bald head that looked purposely shined. A pistol was strapped to his hip, his hand moving to hover in threat.

“You’re underdressed,” Angel commented, not even bothering to look.

Wyatt crossed his arms. “You know I don’t like these things. I wasn’t going to stay long.”

Angel scoffed, turning fully to reveal a glass of amber liquid. He took a sip, eyes narrowed towards his son. “How many times have I told you about presentation? You’re a Beauchamp. We’re expected to look a certain way.” His attention turned to Sythe, glare an almost physical brand as he studied Sythe’s cheap, worn jeans and black t-shirt before settling on the silver chain around his throat.

He'd worn it on purpose, another subtle detail that would sink into Angel’s subconscious. Fae preferred not to wear metal, and neither did shifters.

Wyatt took a step forward, his muscles bunched beneath his pristine white shirt. “This is—”

“I know who it is,” Angel snapped, taking another sip of his amber liquid. “I asked for the meeting, you stupid boy. Of course I know who it fucking is.”

Wyatt stiffened beside him, but Sythe kept his gaze trained forward.

Angel’s irritation was palpable. “Mr Black, tell me what happened to the man who hurt my son.”

“Dead, just like I promised.” Not technically a lie. Sythe had tracked the guy down a day after the incident, only to find him already dead with a bottle of pills clutched in his palm.

“Good.” Angel gestured to the seat before his desk, taking his own with the fireplace at his back. “My son seems to think you’re one of us.”

Wyatt shuffled from one foot to the other. “He’s a—”

“Did I ask you?” Angel interrupted Wyatt before returning to Sythe. “I take a great interest in all my son’s friends, and your history’s quite interesting. Isn’t it?”

Sythe straightened himself in his seat, keeping the eye contact. “In what way, Sir?”

His glass clinked loudly as he set it down. “You were born and raised in the Bricks. Orphaned by fifteen, and have a rap sheet as long as my arm. Petty theft all the way up to ABH.”

Thank you Titus, he thought, knowing he owed his brother big time.

“So I’m poor and resolve issues with my fists. What’s your point?”

“Sythe,” Wyatt rumbled low, nudging him in the arm just as Angel’s personal bodyguard took a step forward.

“No, it’s quite alright.” Angel leaned back in his chair, holding his hand up to the guard. “You don’t know who I am, do you, boy?”

Sythe ignored the irritation at being called ‘boy’ at almost thirty. “Should I?”

“Probably.” Angel cocked his head, his smile not containing an ounce of warmth. “I find it hard to believe you’ve never heard of the name.”

Sythe shrugged. “I don’t think we share the same friendship circles.”

“Hmmm. We’ve been having some issues with… loyalty within my men recently. Some fucking rodent trying to break us apart. You have to understand my caution about a stranger who’s suddenly friendly with my son. I’m always wary about ulterior motives when it comes to anyone sniffing around family.”

A rat? Now that’s interesting.

“What the fuck has any of this got to do with me?” Sythe said aloud, purposely turning to Wyatt.

“Look at me when I’m speaking to you!” Angel stood, moving around the desk to sit on the edge. “We’re a private family, and I’ve been told you’re worth a chance. So, tell me Mr Black. Are you worth a chance?”

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