"I see you're still as late as ever, Zandermont," William said, watching her with some amusement as he crossed his arms.
"You know me, Will-Will," the alpha smirked, nodding at the aforementioned woman in greeting. "Why don't you ever bring little Deimos with you?"
"Because bringing him would mean throwing out the window any remaining seriousness or professionalism with your presence," the Aballay mocked, shaking his head slightly. "It's hard enough to stand the two of you separately, so even if the sky falls, I'm not going to put you both together in the same place."
"Spoilsport!" the purple-haired woman closed her eyes and frowned, making her disapproval clear. "At some point, I'll get my way, and I promise I'll steal Dei-Dei from you."
"Good luck with that… that idiot is a tick who will stay glued to my side until he can squeeze out every last drop of blood," William mocked, chuckling.
"Back to what we were talking about before someone interrupted us…" Brandon chimed in, raising his voice slightly to capture the audience's attention. "As far as we know, the acting governor didn't have the slightest idea about the new law."
"How sure are we that sellout scumbag is still on our side?" Cerval asked, raising an eyebrow and then commenting in a dissatisfied tone that made his opinion of the governor clear. "It's possible he might think that with more direct intervention, he could sideline us now that the money isn't enough or worth the risk."
"I can confirm that for you," Lauren raised a hand without opening her eyes. "His secretary was able to provide a lot of interesting information about him… There's no way the idiot is trying to pull this on us… because it turns out he's doing his own business in our territories with the help of certain street rats who are mysteriously well-equipped to slip under our radar at just the right time, using the right routes."
"That's very curious," Ezequiel glanced at the purple-haired woman. "I just happened to catch a rat selling fairy dust in one of my alleys… The bastard committed suicide with a pill between his teeth as soon as my men caught him."
"Rats who know where to crawl and who have a disturbingly strong loyalty," William tapped the table repeatedly with his fingertips. "This feels oddly familiar."
"You don't mean that…?" Dairon widened her eyes in surprise.
"Looks like those arrogant idiots are back," Lauren opened her eyes and grinned from ear to ear. "That occultist moron from San Diego must have left an heir before Will-Will beat him to death."
"Lucky bastard," Aballay cursed, growling through his teeth and sending shivers down everyone's spine.
"N-Not to sound uneducated just for the sake of it, but… who are we talking about?" Cerval looked somewhat embarrassed and fearful as he asked, glancing sideways at William.
"Dormetailet Wolm… an ancient, highly specialized group led by a manipulative occultist known as Democles who knew exactly how to exploit the weaknesses of every person he encountered… bringing them to their lowest ebb and whispering in their ears exactly what they needed to hear," Brandon remarked calmly, despite the fire that seemed to burn in his eyes. "That idiot was a thorn in our side we couldn't shake for a long time until…"
"Until the occult trainer made the mistake of trying to mess with Will-Will, and he crushed him like the pathetically pitiful worm he truly is," Lauren finished, still smiling, seeming to enjoy the heavy atmosphere. "I would have loved to see from the front row the face that clown made when he realized how screwed he was."
Silence fell over the room, thick and heavy with the memory of a brutal past. The mention of Democles and Dormetailet Wolm was not something those present took lightly. They were names that evoked scars, battles fought at enormous cost, and the indelible mark of a cunning and ruthless enemy.
The last time they'd faced them, chaos had reigned, and although William had ended Democles' reign of terror, the manipulator's memory lingered, like a recurring nightmare.
The idea that his legacy could have resurfaced, with new rats operating under the same modus operandi, was a truly bitter pill to swallow.
"The unwavering loyalty of these rats..." Ezequiel broke the silence, his deep voice echoing with the same unease they all felt. "It's not common. Street rats come at a price, but a loyalty that drives them to commit suicide before speaking... that's the hallmark of Democles. Or of someone who learned well from him."
Ezequiel's gaze fell on William, who continued tapping his fingers on the table, his face inscrutable. The tension in the room was palpable, the air vibrating with the imminent threat.
Everyone knew this was no small matter, that they were facing something bigger and more dangerous than Zandermont's tardiness or William's jokes had initially suggested.
"Be that as it may," Ezequiel cleared his throat, assuming his role as a strategist. "We must coordinate to make all the rats, whether they're from Dormetailet Wolm or not, fall into the trap at the same time so that not a single one escapes. We need to strike with precision and force before this new plague can take root."
"Do what you want," William rose from his place, walking at a leisurely pace toward the exit, followed by his escorts. His voice was a distant echo, but his intention was clear. "I'm going to make my preparations."
"And... he left," the purple-haired alpha twisted her wrist and fixed her gaze on her watch. "Meh, it lasted longer than I expected." Although his tone was light, the smile had disappeared from his lips, replaced by a more serious expression.
"Much more," Dairon agreed with a nod, then leaned back and crossed his arms. "We must prepare ourselves as well… when William finds them, we will surround them and finish them all off. William's strategy will be the trigger, and we will be the hammer that crushes what remains. The hunt has begun, and this time, we will make sure not a single rat is left alive."
At this, everyone agreed, deciding to end the meeting and go their separate ways. The air outside the room felt different, heavy with grim anticipation and the promise of an imminent confrontation.
The shadow of Damocles, though momentarily forgotten, had returned to haunt them, reminding them that old wounds sometimes heal only superficially.