Page 79 of Stroke of Shadows

Fucked. That was what he was.

His brothers were never going to let him live it down.

“Mr Edwards.”

Sythe straightened as an unfamiliar man stepped around the car, thankful he was alone. How the fuck did he not hear him approach? He needed to save his existential crisis for when he wasn’t working.

“Who the fuck are you?” And how did he know his real name?

The man stepped closer, the glyphs tattooed around his wrists coming into view. They were double lined, which meant he was strong for a druid. Likely a Vector.

“If you’re here about my father, you can tell him to go fuck himself.”

Slight colouring on the man’s cheekbones. “He wants an update. It’s been weeks, and he’s not heard of your decision.” He wore a neat suit, with black-framed glasses perched on his too-thin nose.

“Honestly, you guys are like a walking menstrual cramp.” Sythe pushed himself away from the car, using his height to crowd the man. “I’ve already told him I’m not interested.”

“You know your options, but I’d like you to reconsider.” The man seemed nervous, his eyes darting to the side despite how strongly he held his shoulders. “You can either take your place as his second-in-command, or you take over as leader of the Guardians.”

Sythe laughed, the sound a loud bark that echoed around them. “You don’t seem happy for me to take second-in-command.”

The man’s lips thinned, a nerve in his cheek twitching.

Definitely not happy with Sythe slipping into such an honoured role. One he didn’t deserve, or want. Now, he didn’t technically hate the governing body of his Breed. But if most of them were on fire, he probably wouldn’t piss on them.

The Vector cleared his throat. “Archdruid Edwards also wanted me to inform you that if you decline either role, he’ll wage war with the Guardians.”

“Will he now?” Sythe whistled, appraising the man from the tips of his shoes to his neatly coiffed hair. “What’s your name?”

A vein in his head visibly pulsed. “You may call me Vector Norris.”

“Okay Norbit,” Sythe said, purposely dropping his title and changing his name. “Tell me exactly how you think you’ll defeat the Guardians?”

He pulled strength from his beast, allowing his eyes to shift.

“We were created for the sole purpose of destroying Daemons. We’re stronger than you. Faster than you.” Sythe stepped closer, forcing Norris to retreat. “So tell me, Nora. How exactly are you and your merry men going to defeat the same people you tortured under the guise of training? All because the Fates demanded penance for ancestors a millennia ago.”

“You’re nothing but mercenaries,” Norris hissed, visibly paling. “Only caring about yourselves. It was an honour for you to be chosen to defend our Breed.”

“A mercenary gets paid.” Sythe pulled back, allowing his irises to return to normal. “Now, unless you’re about to offer me a nice chunk of change, you can fuck off. Tell my darling sperm donor that the next person he sends is being returned in pieces. The Guardians no longer answer to the Archdruid, or the Order.”

Norris swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “The Fates frown at your actions.”

“Good thing I don’t believe in them. Now go, before I send you back in pieces.” Gnashing his teeth together in warning, Norris staggered back, quickly turning to run away.

Sythe watched until he disappeared down a side street, turning back to the restaurant with a barely suppressed grin. His father was someone who didn’t tolerate disobedience, so he knew the reprieve would be short lived. He needed a way to get him off the Guardians back, and accepting either position wasn’t an option.

Sythe frowned, moving around the car to get a better view of the front of the restaurant, only to find Charles gone from where he sat in his car.

Fuck!

How long had he been looking away?

Sythe had already crossed the street when Charles burst through the restaurant doors, a cacophony of shouts following behind. He looked angered, his movements rigid as he entered the car and pulled into the traffic.

On his own.

Without Harper.

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