ask you again,” she said, and her gaze was direct. “What is this campaign—bill,” she corrected, “and what do you want from me?”
“I want you to purchase that parcel of land on the western border of Summercliffe.”
“Why?”
“I’m your father. I don’t need to explain myself to you. Just do it.”
“And I’m your Prime,” she snapped, and Zane’s eyebrows rose. This was more than your average daddy-daughter issues, he suspected. “You’re a Reform Senator. You don’t control Nightwing anymore, Dad. I do.”
Zane folded his arms and sat on the corner of Vincent’s mahogany desk inside the expansive den of the cold and draughty Marchetta Manor. His gaze darted between the two vampires. Things were getting interesting. Reform senators had to renounce any familial or tribal associations, to avoid conflicts of interest. Vincent Marchetta had once been the Nightwing Vampire Prime, but had had to cede his position in order to run for politics.
Vincent’s gaze lowered, and Zane saw the old man’s fist clench. “I want to purchase that tract of land.”
“Why? It’s virtually bear country.”
“It’s also a thoroughfare for wolves between Woodland and Alpine.”
Zane frowned at the mention of those packs. His packs.
Vivianne sighed. “What do you plan to do? Shut down the thoroughfare to get back at the lycans?”
“Oh, no,” Vincent said, smiling. “In fact, I want the opposite. I want it used. A lot.”
Vivianne straightened in her chair, suspicion bright in her brown gaze. “Why?”
“Because I’m proposing a change to the territorial rights bill,” Vincent told her. “I want to adjust the jurisdiction for trespass.”
“Why?” she asked, frowning.
“Because I want the crime reclassified as a Class 1A crime.”
Vivianne’s frown deepened, and Zane saw her confusion creep through her mask.
“Why, Dad?”
Yeah, why? Currently trespassing was a Class 2 crime. When a trespasser was caught, there were two options. If it was interbreed, say, a werewolf trespassing on another pack’s land, there was the escort to the boundary. If it was cross-breed, say, a vampire trespassing on a pack’s land, then either hostage and negotiation for release, usually resulting in a boon for those being trespassed against, or an outright kill. Upgrading to a Class 1A crime meant the prime owner of the land could kill or imprison the trespasser indefinitely.
“Because I want to set up a new clinic on that parcel of land, and send any lycan trespassers over for testing.”
Zane gaped. That sounded...wrong. Like, weird wrong.
“Testing? Don’t you meant torturing?”
Vincent shrugged. “Semantics.”
Zane’s head whipped around to face Vivianne. “You can’t be serious,” he roared.
He’d overheard some of what that underground clinic had been used for, and it turned his stomach.
Vivianne flinched slightly, but masked the move by skimming her hands over her skirt, as though straightening the fabric over her curves. Yeah, she’d heard him. She could try to ignore him all she liked, but he was going to make sure she heard him, on this topic at least.
“I know you want to resume your project—” she began, but halted when her father leaned forward in his chair.
“My project?” he repeated in a low voice. “Don’t you mean our project?” Zane’s eyes widened, and he glared in accusation at Vivianne. She’d been part of it? Had she condoned what her father had done at that clinic? He’d heard the whispers, the stories of those who’d been abused, but who’d escaped just before the clinic was destroyed. He’d also heard the cries of pain, the moans and screams of the other “patients,” just before her brother, Lucien, had unleashed on his father. He folded his arms as he glared down at the senator. The man was a monster.
Vivianne’s father tapped the top of his desk with his forefinger. “Those experiments are designed to create weapons we can use against the werewolves.” Vincent Marchetta shook his head. “We were so close, with that Segova woman—”
“You mean Natalie, your daughter-in-law,” Vivianne interrupted. “She’s family now, Dad. And there was no ‘we’—neither Lucien nor I knew anything about this clinic of yours.”
Her eyes met Zane’s briefly, and he relaxed a little at her pointed message. She hadn’t been involved in that madness, and she wanted him to know that.
Vincent nodded. “And that was my mistake. That’s why I want you involved, from the ground up, this time, Vivianne. After what they’ve done to our family—what they did to you—I think you’d jump at the chance to eradicate the wolves.”
Zane watched as Vivianne’s eyes rounded, just a little. “You—you want us to work together?” She was blinking, as though trying to hide her shock, her...was that hope he saw flare in her eyes? His brows drew into a deeper V. Did she want to hurt the wolves? Him?
“Think about it, Vivianne. The only advantage lycans have over vampires is that their bite is lethal. Otherwise, strength, speed, agility, etc.—we’re evenly matched.” Vincent’s eyes sparked with anticipation. “If we could create some sort of inoculation, some defense that would render a lycan’s bite harmless—imagine what that would mean for us?”
“It would definitely give us an advantage,” Vivianne admitted, and Zane’s heart sank at her words. He could almost see the wheels turning in her head. He’d learned she was quick to assess the benefits and pitfalls of a project, to think several jumps ahead of those around her, and in this situation, she didn’t disappoint. “It would also position us as the strongest colony among the vampires. Maybe open up some trade potential.”
“You’re talking about conducting mad science experiments on werewolves,” Zane hissed at her. Her eyes glinted with steely determination before she looked at the man sitting on the other side of the desk.
“It’s not legal,” she told her father gently.
“It’s not ethical! It’s not right!” Zane exclaimed.
“We can get around it,” Vincent told her, “once this bill is passed. But I want that tract of land for when it does.”
“I’ll think about it,” Vivianne said, then rose from her seat and gathered her handbag.
“Tell him no,” Zane said forcefully.
“You do that.” Vincent watched as his daughter prepared to leave.
Zane
