Chapter 6: The Iron Scent

Orson Kovacs had taken the best table at the market.

A canopy kept the rain off his coat while vendors moved boxes around him.

He watched me come through the crowd beside Valerio.

"The bride who couldn't keep one Alpha," he said.

A few people looked up from their stalls.

I set the blocked escrow notice on his table.

"Release it."

He read the first line and pushed it away.

"You still mistake stubbornness for power."

"I have a contract."

"You have a man who hasn't learned to regret you yet."

Valerio moved closer.

I lifted a hand to keep him beside me, not in front.

Orson noticed.

"You trained this one quickly."

"I asked you to release the payment," I said.

"You may ask."

He raised his coffee cup and waited.

The vendor beside him stopped stacking apples.

The market had become the audience Orson liked.

"Your seal is on a bank account Damon claims he controls," I said. "Which of you lied?"

Orson put his cup down.

"I control old debts. My son controls the pack."

"The depot isn't yours to collect."

"Your mother put her blood on that oath."

"She had no right thumb."

A woman near the apple stall gave a sharp breath.

Orson's face stayed calm.

"Grief has done strange things to your memory."

I had watched my mother wrap that hand every cold morning.

He knew it.

I leaned across his table and picked up his brass seal stamp.

He caught my wrist.

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