“I don’t know who that is,” he responded.

“So ya want to do this the hard way,” I said, reaching up and grabbing my hair. I tugged my head off and bent my gory severed neck in his face before I held up my head and talked.

“Roman,” I growled, inflicting it with the powers of death. His already horrified face turned to pure panic as his fingers abandoned the spine and clawed at his chest. He gasped for air. The other men looked inclined to stay out of it entirely.

“Fen…” I started on his last name, drawing it out. He thrashed in pain.

“Boat!” He rasped. I put my head back on and stood up, flicking the spine whip from his neck and wrapping it around my fist. A bony bladed brass knuckle decorated fist, ready to pummel any face that seemed like it needed some meat tenderized.

“Go on,” I said. Roman ground his teeth and I saw indignation flash in his eyes. I wasn’t just asking him to bend his knee to me, I was also asking him to go against Council business. He and I both knew that was a poor choice for good little packs like his. The Lycan Stalkers liked to keep their paws clean but there was a storm and I was willing to drag their pelts through the mud to get what I needed.

I wasn’t a good guy. I cared for what was mine and I did it fiercely enough that I’d brought entire armies to the gates of Hell. I wasn’t only protective though, I was vengeful. I wanted the Lycan Stalkers to get on the Council’s shitlist. They’d talked to Remington, helped him in some small way, and for that, I’d make sure everyone knew they squealed when I came knocking. That they gave up the Council’s hitman and led me right to his door.

They’d never be good in the eyes of the Council again. They’d be cast outs. I considered that a merciful punishment because the alternative was to kill every last one of them for daring to consort with an enemy of mine.

“Remington is trying to get off the island,” Roman finally spit out, pulling himself back to his feet. Despite the aching pain his chest and neck were no doubt in, he ignored it. He stood tall and glared at the men who hadn’t even attempted to protect him. They shrunk back in shame. Roman was going to make a good leader if he could get his men in line.

“I told him I had a boat going out tomorrow night.”

“A boat in this weather?”

“A few boats came back to shore to grab supplies and people. It’s either sink here or try to make it through the storm at sea. I told Remington he could hop on one of mine since it was Council business.”

“How noble,” I said with a sneer. I got him to tell me the rest of the details—boat name and location.