The Rogues Who Went Rogue
Chapter 94

Ivory put on contact lenses and used concealer to hide his scar, and Greg wore shades and a hoodie before the two took a subway to the stop at the Primordial station, which was only a thirty-minute drive from Xandar and Lucianne's residence.

After stepping on the platform and using the loo to kill time while waiting for the crowd to disperse, they entered the elevator that was designed to only go up. The moment Greg slid a plain white card into the slit between the closed doors, the built-in scanner of the doors granted

access. The pale yellow lights in the lift turned pale blue, and the lift descended.

Once the doors opened, Greg removed the hoodie and adjusted his formal wear that he was wearing underneath, and Ivory rubbed off some of the concealer and proudly put on his eyepatch. The row of cabs were there, and Greg and Ivory hopped into their regular one, gave him the location and the driver stepped on it.

They arrived at their destination within ten minutes. Disregarding the long queue outside the nightclub with colored, fluorescent lights that read 'Nash's Escape', Greg and Ivory went straight to the entrance and stood in front of two bouncers, looking at them with a straight face. Without saying a word, the large-sized men offered Greg a bow as they stepped aside to let them through.

Greg immediately spotted Nash boasting about his business at a table surrounded by six female lycans, all of whom he himself had slept with at least once before. As soon as the duke got the nightclub owner to spot him, Greg made his way in the direction of Nash's office. Nash emptied his beer mug before he excused himself and signaled his bouncer outside his office to open the door for Greg and Ivory.

As soon as the door closed, leaving the three men alone, Nash put a finger to his lips - a sign to talk about anything but business. This was what Greg was worried about. In his absence, someone had asserted dominance, or trying to at least, and they even got to independent proprietors like Nash, whom Greg left alone out of mutual respect.

Upon receiving the signal, the duke threw Nash an empathizing gaze when he spoke in a business-like manner that anyone listening wouldn't know what he was showing on his face, "I'm looking for something, Nash, something strong." "The same as the last?"

"No. This is to end a very powerful creature. Instantly.”

"This doesn't fit into your usual modus operandi, Your Grace. May an old friend ask why?"

"That depends on whether you have what I want or not."

Nash chuckled and gave a firm nod to acknowledge the duke's empathy. He then walked across the room to a small, round table where a miniature lycan in a fighting position stood. He bent the tail and the bookshelf moved to the side to reveal his storage space. Every type of poison in existence had its own special place on the shelves that covered the four walls. Greg and Ivory immediately spotted bugs placed on the inner shelves. There were ten that they could see, but none were positioned at the table where business was normally discussed, so it was safe to conclude that these were just listening devices.

The round, glass table in the middle had only two chairs placed opposite each other. Greg sat in one, and Ivory stood behind him. Nash took a round-bottom flask with brown-colored liquid and set it on a stand on the table.

Nash sat, smiled, and began, "This is called Neplus Vivre, Your Grace. It's effective as it is quick. This..." he wrote something on the notepad before he slid it towards Greg before he continued, "...is my quote for one milliliter."

Greg read the 'quote' on the notepad, which said, 'You took too long, Your Grace. He noticed there was a folded paper underneath the first page of the notepad, and after exchanging a look with Nash, took it out to unfold it quietly as he kept the conversation going, "The last time I was here, it was a long time ago. Has the traceability of poisons improved or deteriorated?"

It was a stupid question to buy time. He and Nash knew that poisons would always be traceable.

"Well, you got away the last time, didn't you, Your Grace?" Nash continued playing along.

"Barely. If this leads back to me, I don't want it."

"Perhaps something with a more common scent then." Nash got up and continued pretending to be looking for some other poison.

Greg sped read the note. 'I wrote this in advance waiting for your arrival, Your Grace. Six months after your imprisonment, we were all paid a visit. Klementine's assistant, Feva, turned against her and has a new employer, who is now forcing us to submit to that authority. We have been instructed that, should you ever return, we are to treat you as how we normally would, to not raise suspicion while they monitored yours and your followers' movements. I can't tell you how grateful I am that they can't plant bugs in mind-links. Emily, Jordan and I agreed that we remain at your service, Your Grace, out of mutual respect, as always. But we fear that your own safety may be compromised. The main reason this new, anonymous employer is gaining influence is because we are told that you would give us up to the kingdom's authorities, to the queen herself, once you're given the chance.'

Greg scribbled his reply and when he put down the pen, Nash grabbed another glass bottle and returned to his seat, where the notepad already was as his quick eyes read the duke's response, 'Klementine would die before she allowed one of her goons to continue living after betraying her. This new story claiming her as the victim does not sit with logic. She has to be involved in challenging me. As for the kingdom's authorities, I give you my word that I won't let you or the others be found unless I can guarantee everyone's safety. The queen is different when it comes to accepting us. It was the only reason why I disclosed my followers to her. If we help her, she'll help us. There's a threat against her, involving vampires, which I'm sure you've heard about. I need to know where your supply of allicin comes from.' Nash lifted the purple-liquid bottle and started promoting its benefits, "This one is special because it carries the general lycan scent. The inventors were very clever to neutralize the original odor that it would seem as if any lycan could've committed the murder." "You're guaranteeing me that this one has no loopholes? Not even if an autopsy is performed?"

Nash replied in mock impatience, "Your Grace, an autopsy would only reveal the cause of death, and it so happens that this happens to have such common elements that'd those bird-brained police up there would take decades to track, if they're able to track it at all!" Greg asked monotonously, "And the quote for this is?"

Nash scribbled on the purported quote on the notepad and pushed it back to the duke. Greg smiled, and then said, "I'll take this one then."

"Of course you will."

While waiting for Nash to fill up a small vial using a dropper, Greg reread the name and address, committing it to memory, before he smiled softly at the question Nash added at the end. The duke scribbled on the notepad again to answer why he was helping the authorities when he could've just stayed out of the whole thing, adding his own last question to the message.

When the vial was ready, Greg stood, handed over a stack of cash, shook Nash's hand and uttered the usual 'It's been a pleasure doing business with you.

At the entrance of the room, Greg turned back, awaiting his answer to his last question, to which Nash chuckled lightly as he shook his head, mouthing 'no'. Greg nodded with a smile in acknowledgment, and composed himself before he and Ivory left Nash's office.

Nash turned off the lights and let the bookshelf hide the secret room once more. He stood at the fireplace and threw the whole notepad into the flames but for one sheet, Greg's last response which intrigued Nash so much that he had to read it again - if you ever have the chance to fall in love with a creature that stands apart the way she does, Nash, you'd understand why. By the way, is this thing really untraceable?

Nash chuckled to himself when he reread the question, and couldn't help but feel sad when he reread the sentence preceding that. So it was true. The duke had fallen for the queen. Nash sighed and threw the sheet into the fire, then leaned against the fireplace. For the first time since he was a young boy, he looked at the ceiling and conveyed a silent prayer, "Goddess, spare him the torment. He may not be the best man but he is a good man."