"…and so, Mister Gandor, I'm going to need to know the whereabouts of Dallas Genoard. I'm sure that you, of all people, would know where he is?"
Luck Gandor stared evenly into the peering, spectacled eyes of Bartolo Runorata. Both of the men were watching each other with a carefully calculated amount of caution. Luck knew that, if the Don was wanting to talk to him again, it couldn't be anything good, and he had been right. The topic of Dallas Genoard hadn't been brought up between them for a good year, and Luck had figured that it had been dropped, however…
"And why would I?" Luck countered, attempting not to sound defensive. "I don't want anything having to do with him, and I haven't for a long time. I have no idea."
"I certainly hope you aren't lying." The cold, cruel tone in Bartolo's voice made Luck's blood run cold for a split second. Luck's eyes flitted from Bartolo's face down to the coffee in his own hands. It had long turned cold. Exhaling slowly, Bartolo leaned against the back of his chair, joints creaking. "There are rumors circulating, that the Genoard family comes from a branch of people—strange people—that were believed to have been eradicated about twenty years ago." He paused again, waiting for Luck to meet his eyes. "To cut right to the point, we believe that the surviving Genoards are werewolves."
"Werewolves don't exist," Luck said curtly, his eyebrows furrowing together.
"Not according to the sources," Bartolo countered. "Decades ago, the Genoard siblings' mother was shot to death by a group of superstitious hunters. Before then, they had spent time tracking her every move, watching her, digging up her past, documenting her." Luck felt his skin growing tighter, increasingly more uncomfortable. "The evidence they put together is truly astounding. Unfortunately, after her death, the files and evidence were destroyed, most likely by Raymond Genoard himself. A man will go to great lengths to protect his wife's reputation and dignity."
Luck was quiet for a few moments, steadying his breathing, doing his best to keep himself calm. Don't do anything stupid. "I see. But I still don't have any idea about Dallas's whereabouts. The last time I had contact with his sister, he'd run off again. He's a difficult man to pin down." Standing, he pushed in the chair at the table they were sitting at, knuckles white on the back of the chair. "We're done here." This was a risk that Luck couldn't take, even if he knew Dallas's whereabouts.
If the Runoratas found out about the Genoard's werewolf descent, it would only be a matter of time before they discovered the Gandor's as well.
