Chapter 2

Omari

His eyes stared blanky forward, the car he was in speeding down the highway from the airport. Omari Scar was in Los Angeles at last.

“Alpha Omari,” Grace Atkins gave him a respectful nod and curtsy in greeting. He nodded at her, moving past her and into his hotel room for the time he would spend here. The pack members he took with him had also been given rooms at this same hotel. Best to keep them close, he thought. One never knows what might happen.

Darius, one of his men, walked into the room after giving a brief knock.

“Alpha Wayland wants to have a meeting tomorrow by 3.” Darius reported as soon as Omari turned to him to hear what he had to say.

Omari nodded at his words. “Make the arrangements. I will meet him here.” He paused a moment before continuing. “Have our tails been caught yet?” There was ice in his tone as he asked that.

Darius shook his head, “No, Alpha. We are working on locating their vehicles as soon as possible. Through that, we can trace them and discover their identities.”

“Do so, Darius. I need a report by tomorrow morning.” He turned away, clearly dismissing his subordinate. Darius got the message, bowing and turning to leave. The door was shut, and there was silence.

Omari walked towards the large windows. From there he could see the skyline, a large city with bustling life.

Yet his mind was on one thing.

His duties as the new Alpha of Scarlet Pack were numerous and ever increasing. He had the pack looking up to him to take over from where his father, now bedridden and dangerously ill, had stopped.

That was why he was in Los Angeles in the first place, away from his pack.

The Scarlet Pack had far too many enemies gunning for it. It seemed that as soon as his father had taken ill, like sharks sensing blood, they began to converge upon them, trying to circle them and wait for a break in the ranks. When there was, they would attack, tearing them up piece by piece.

Omari Scar was not scared; he was furious.

Just as today had shown, he could not afford to have one weakness.

Leaving the airport, he had been only about 10 minutes away from his hotel when he noticed that they were being tailed. Through some brilliant manoeuvring, he had his chauffeur drive around in circles, further and further way from where he was actually going to. After some time, his pack members, whom he had informed of the situation and given his orders to, had cornered his tailers, taking them on a high-speed chase while Omari made his way to his hotel.

He needed to be even more cautious. And he needed to find Silas Banes.

Only the renowned warlock he had heard of, would be able to give him the help he needed to defeat his enemies and protect his pack, once and for all.

Silas had been seen last in the city of Angels. It would be here that they would begin their search, he thought resolutely. And they would find him, no matter what.

Time passed by as Omari settled in, burying himself in work; even as he was travelling, he had to take his work with him. Therefore, he worked slowly though the reports he had received from his pack members on the various missions they had been on that week. He liked written reports even more than verbal reports – as his father had taught him from a very young age, record keeping was important, and building the archives of the Pack was a way for the past generations to teach the future ones about how the Pack has been run in years to come. However, he admitted that it was a mindless task to do, reading up and signing off on the reports. As Alpha of the Pack, it was his duty.

The day had passed by so quickly whilst Omari worked, and as the sun had fully set, he recalled the meeting he had set by 9pm that night.

Soon, he was dressed in his finest, most luxurious clothes, entering his car and ordering the chauffeur to take him to Neon Strip Club. He knew of the owner, Ryan Poole, and his connections which made him the most reputable person to go to for news in the supernatural world. Omari had sent Darius a day ahead of him, to meet Ryan and arrange a meeting. It was his starting point.

He watched the city streetlights go by, various sights and sounds and smells around him that could make anyone’s head turn.

The car stopped at a building where the garish neon pink, blue and red signage kept glowing. The Alpha shook his head, moving towards the entrance of the club.

After a few words and moments of waiting, he was inside the strip club, being led by a scantily clad girl to the door of the owner. He knocked once, opening the door to see a middle-aged bald man sitting behind the desk of which a plaque said ‘Ryan Poole’.

The man stood, smiling lightly and walking over to shake Omari’s hand. “Alpha Omari of the Scarlet Pack, I presume?”

“I am. And you must be Ryan Poole.”

“That I am,” the man gave a hearty chuckle, Omari’s face not giving so much as a twitch of a smile.

Soon, they were seated. After being served refreshments by yet another scantily clad girl, Ryan made to lock the door of his office, turning to the Alpha seated with a more serious expression than he had sported before.

Time to get down to business, Omari thought.

An hour passed before Omari emerged from the small yet comfortable office. He began to make his way out, slowly, through the strip club that was somehow even fuller than it was before. Omari found himself pausing, just as he was halfway through.

He had achieved what he came here for, he reasoned. Why not just sit and enjoy a few shows? It would not cause any harm.

With that mindset, Omari took a seat at one of the more comfortable chairs, ordering a random alcoholic beverage which he sipped every now and then. His eyes wandered round the club, settling on the dancers now leaving the stage, to be replaced by different ones.

The music in combination with the drink he had almost finished made this a more enjoyable experience for him. After all, it had been a long time since he partook in anything which was only for him, and not related to Pack business.

All at once, he caught a whiff of the most enticing scent he had ever perceived. The Alpha werewolf straightened, head whipping to the side, trying to spot where he had sensed it, up on the dancer’s stage.

His eyes were drawn to the dancer on the rightmost pole. She looked gorgeous, wearing a flimsy two-piece set that looked to be pink and purple under the dim lighting. She had just gotten on stage, and her performance was about to start.

This dancer was who this scent belonged to. But how, and why? Omari’s mind whirled, eyes caught in a spell, watching the dancer elegantly climb the pole, performing her number with a vigour that took his breath away.

He could not stop watching. She swayed her hips to the beat of the music, the tassels on her sequinned set swinging with every turn. She twirled on the too-high heels she wore, grabbing the pole and bringing her body to it with a swift movement, dropping into a split. The girl kept dancing, her hair wild and beautiful. Omari watched her, eyes intent on capturing her image.

Then, as if she could sense being watched by him, she turned, glancing his way.

His eyes caught hers as she gazed at him with those eyes that looked like molten chocolate.

Right then and there, Omari knew.