"Your home is unusually quiet today," Benson Oliveira noted with surprise as he settled into a leather seat across from his host. The home in question was a sprawling mansion built upon a hill called Hope. Its unparalleled opulence and architectural grandeur were second to none in all of Brazil. The 950-square-meter space boasted a reception hall, a panoramic salon, a 250-seat open-air amphitheater, ten bedrooms, and nine swimming pools. Each room, including the 13 baths and 10 bedrooms, had been carefully designed by a world-renowned Japanese-based architect, contributing to the property's unique and creative character.
It belonged to the Souzas, the most powerful underworld family in Brazil. They dominated the bomb and drug trafficking sector, establishing themselves as the largest and most possibly the only dealers in the country. Every crime lord did business with them. And should any competition arise, they were snuffed out as quickly as they came. Putting up a front in the public eye, they dabbled into politics by either being directly elected into reputable positions or having a foot-long list of lawmakers at their disposal. They owned one of Brazil's most prominent media houses, a power holding company, a chain of five-star hotels, and a prestigious high school for the wealthy.
Their home was their inner sanctum, and strangers were only let in by summons, as Benson Oliveira had been. He was the principal of Souza High, but more importantly the Beta of the Brasa Pack, a formidable werewolf civilization that lived openly among humans in Sao Paulo.
Ginny Souza sat across from him, a woman of seventy-nine whose presence commanded the room despite her age. Her hair, once dark as night, had turned a striking silver-gray that she wore swept back in an elegant chignon. A carved mahogany walking stick rested beside her chair–not a sign of weakness, but an extension of her authority with a silver handle which gleamed like a scepter. Her face, though lined with decades of ruthless decision-making, still held the sharp beauty that had made men both desire and fear her in her youth. Now, those same men simply feared.
She glanced over at Benson and smiled–an expression that never quite reached her cold, calculating eyes. "Antônio and my granddaughter-in-law took my great-grandbabies to Disney land."
Benson lifted his brow at that. "Oh. And Ruiz? Has his travel restrictions been lifted?"
Ginny shook her head as her fingers absently traced the handle of her cane. "But only because I want it that way–its a good look. It shows our willingness to cooperate with the authorities. Anyway, this issue with his late friend's sister is why I called. Can you believe she threatened me?"
"Really?" His throat went dry. "When?"
"At the funeral parlor," she replied, smiling in that unsettling way of hers. "As soon as her brother was laid to rest, she walked up to me, dole-faced and heartbroken. That little girl threatened to make me weep over Ruiz."
"The audacity..." Benson was dumbstruck. Reina Carvalho, a seventeen-year-old high schooler, had done what the adults could never dream of doing. Issuing a direct threat to the dowager of the underworld was similar to writing a letter to the Grim Reaper. These people were terribly wicked. They never punished anyone for going against them; it was always about the audacity they had to do it.
Benson instantly felt pity for the girl's mother. It had been over three weeks since the burial, but the image of Maria, standing across the patch of ground where her son's resting place would be, was permanently engraved in his mind. She'd looked fragile and small, her silent tears tugging at the strings of his heart. They had so many unanswered questions and so many gaps in the story surrounding the untimely death of their son. Now, with this new recklessness from their only surviving child, their sorrows were about to be multiplied. His thoughts flickered to his own children, safe only because he played Ginny's game. Reina's bravado would cost her.
"W–what do you have in mind for her?" He asked.
"Nothing for now." Ginny shrugged, her hand tightening slightly on the head of her cane. "I'd love to see how far this would go. The new school year starts in two weeks, and as principal of Souza High, you must ensure resumption week runs smoothly. I want you to pay special attention to that girl, especially if she's around my grandson."
"Yes, of course. Everything will be under control. And thankfully, Ruiz is as ruthless as they come. I'm most certain he can take care—"
Ginny frowned. "I didn't call you here to tell me what I already know. This isn't an intervention, it's an order—"
A light rap on the door interrupted them. It opened, and a man in his late fifties stuck his head in.
"Ginny, you have a call from the chief of police—"
"I wish not to be interrupted, Benito," her frown deepened, never leaving Benson's face.
The butler continued to stand in the doorway, his expression unusually tense. "That's what I told him. But he insisted that it was an urgent matter about master Ruiz, ma'am."
The change in Ginny was instantaneous. Her spine straightened, her knuckles whitening around her cane. "What about him?"
"There's been an incident at Club Pita. He's been shot."
The color drained from Ginny's face, though her expression remained eerily controlled. She rose from her seat with surprising speed for a woman of her age, her cane striking the marble floor with sharp decisive clicks as she moved toward the door.
"Is he alive?" Her voice was deadly calm.
"Yes, ma'am. He's being transported to the hospital now."
She swept past Benito without another word, then paused by the doorway, turning back to fix Benson with a look that could freeze blood. Her gray hair seemed to shimmer like steel in the light, and her eyes—those merciless orbs—promised unspeakable consequences.
"Keep an eye on that girl," she said, her voice low and venomous. Then she was gone, the sharp tap-tap-tap of her cane echoing through the mansion as she hurried toward whatever transportation would get her to her grandson fastest.
Benson sat frozen in the leather chair, his heart hammering against his ribs. If Reina had done it . . .If she'd actually carried out that foolish threat, then God help them all.