Oh my wicked ones...

I'm so glad you loved the last chapter. Both Isabelle and Anthony/Edward have some major chips on their shoulders, and I love how you've already started pondering the reasons.

Thank you so much to Fran S. Sunflower for beta'ing as always, and to PearlyFox for prereading this chapter, and being my go to for French translation! As always, find the translations at the bottom.

III

La Panthère

Isabelle

Dans une familie,

on est attachés les uns aux autres par des fils invisibles qui nous ligotent,

même quad on les coupe.

"Are you ready?" Jasper asks, his light eyes assessing me from across my desk. I nod, glancing down at the file in front of me.

"Yes."

It's all the invitation he needs, and he nods, leaning back in the chair and crossing his long legs. "The shipment of cocaine made it without a problem," he says, steepling his fingers in front of his chest. "The new smuggling methods are proving effective."

I glance at him and nod. "Good. It's all accounted for?"

Jasper shifts, his right shoulder lifting ever so slightly. My eyes narrow. It's his tell. "What?" I demand.

"One guy was caught skimming. Low level, got away with about five K."

I stare at him. "Was he taken care of?"

Jasper nods. "Yes."

I turn my attention back to the file. "What about the guns? Have they made it to Bogatá yet?"

I look up at Jasper, watching him closely.

"Yes, the report came back that all is accounted for. Payment has been received in full and has been triple checked." Jasper hesitates, and when I raise an eyebrow, he lets out a breath. "They asked again if we'd be interested in getting into trafficking..." he pauses when he sees my expression change.

"Tell those bastards if they suggest it one more time, I will dismantle their entire organization in less than a week." My jaw clicks with my rage, and Jasper nods. "Is there wind that they've bought in?"

He shakes his head. "No, but I've got eyes on them to make sure."

I let out a careful breath. "The moment one of those fuckers crosses that line, we cut off all business with them," I order. It's not enough, but there's really only so much I can do. The cartel in Columbia is relying on me for a number of things, but there are other options. I'm the best option, we all know it, but working with me does come with limits. The moment anyone is caught trafficking people, they are burned out of existence. That's what happened with the fucking group out of Miami who tried to convince me to get involved.

Jasper nods. "Understood."

I huff, turning to the file on my desk again. "Any news from France?"

I glance up at Jasper in time to see him shake his head. "No," he says slowly, a slight frown on his face. It's not unusual. I'm typically the only one with direct contact with France. I nod and lean back in my chair again.

"What about Lykaios?"

Jasper nods. "We got Emmett in. So far, Lykaios hasn't made any moves, though I'm told he shit a brick when he came home that night. He doesn't seem to be worried about the welfare of his wife and daughter, more upset his 'property' has been stolen." Jasper stresses the word, and a streak of anger flashes through me. "Still, no call to the police or to Aro. From what we can tell, he seems to be still trying to figure out who could have taken them."

I nod. "The bastard has no shortage of enemies," I point out. "And I can't imagine we'd cross his list, not unless someone tipped him off."

Jasper nods in agreement. "Emmett is in now, so he'll keep us posted."

"Good."

Jasper looks at me, his head tilting slightly. "Do you need anything?"

I'm taken aback by his question. He doesn't usually cross the personal boundary with me. "What could I possibly need?" I demand.

He shrugs. "Thought I'd throw it out there just in case."

I stare at him. Jasper has been with me since almost day one. He'd come to me, a broken, angry boy, bloodthirsty for revenge against abusive men like his father had been. His anger was something I could relate to, and it had fostered a partnership between us. I don't trust anyone, but Jasper is about as close as I can come to trusting anyone.

"I'm fine, Jasper," I say quietly. His ice-blue eyes stare at me, trying to look past my mask. I let him try because I know there is no way he'll be able to.

Finally, he nods.

"I'll make sure the low level is replaced," he says, standing. I watch him leave my office. With my hands in so many pies, I often have to delegate, and Jasper is the only one capable of handling the various illegal operations we're always running.

"Isabelle? Kate is here to see you." Gianna's voice is preceded with only the slightest of electronic hisses to warn me she's calling into my office. I reach to the intercom to press the speaker button.

"Send her in."

I settle back in my chair as my office door opens. Kate steps in, offering me a warm smile I don't deserve. I have a lot of respect for Kate, but her friendliness is a weakness I've never been able to overlook. Perhaps in another life, I could have used her in some of my less savory operations, but she has somehow retained a degree of hope that people in my business don't have time for. She's too open, too trusting.

"Kate, take a seat," I say, pointing to the chair Jasper has just vacated. She nods, sliding into the chair. She's dressed in a simple, light pink blouse and khaki skirt. The clothes are so jarring that it takes me a minute to process them.

"It's good to see you, Isabelle. You're looking well."

Kate fucking loves small talk, and I let out a long breath, tilting my head as I gaze at her. She grins, clearly understanding my exasperation.

"It's a busy day for me," I tell her.

She smiles lightly, pushing her blond hair over her shoulder. "All right, fair enough. I'll get right to it." She reaches into her large floral purse and pulls out a binder. "Here are the reports from all the nonprofits this quarter," she says, sliding me a packet. "We've had tremendous success laundering all the money as requested," she says, nodding toward the packet as I pull it toward myself. "We also managed to open up two more shelters for battered women. We're at capacity already."

I look up at her. "Two?" I ask.

"Full within the first forty-eight hours."

I shake my head. "This fucking city," I hiss, looking over her report.

"We're working on a proposal for an after-school program for a few of the city's worst schools," she continues. "The proposals are all in there."

I flip through it, curious. "What are the goals?" I look up at her as she sighs.

"Ultimately, get kids off the street. We want to start a mentorship program, try to break some of the cycles of abuse these families are in."

I lean back in my chair. "You think you can make a difference?" I ask, skeptical. She looks at me, boldly meeting my gaze.

"I have to try."

This right here is why I like Kate. She's ruthless, highly driven, and on a mission. Aside from how we go about achieving our end goals, Kate and I have a tremendous amount in common.

"I'll review the proposal," I tell her.

She nods, pleased.

We spend a few more minutes catching up on business. Kate manages all the legal ventures I fund. I appreciate that she provides a level of distancing I need from them in order to keep the fact that most of them are used to launder money.

When our business is wrapped up, Kate stands, offering me a warm smile. "A pleasure, as always," she says, holding her hand out. I stand, reciprocating the gesture. She's the only one who ever says that to me and means it.

"Take care of yourself, Kate."

She nods, shouldering her purse before leaving my office. When she's gone, I sigh, cracking my neck. I glance down at the paperwork on my desk. For now, at least, it sounds as if everything is running smoothly.

-V-

I'm knee-deep in sorting through some asinine emails when my phone rings. Annoyed that my concentration is broken, I glance at my cell.

My shoulders relax slightly when I see who is calling, and I bring the phone to my ear.

"Salut, vieux fou," I say, leaning back in my chair. On the phone, Laurent laughs, and it is a deep, smokey sound.

"Coucou, ma petite panthère."

The old familiar nickname runs over me, making me feel young and vulnerable. I push past the discomfort of it and focus on my phone. "To what do I owe this honor?" I ask, switching back to English. Laurent hums.

"Is a grandfather not permitted to call upon his granddaughter?" he asks, his English thickly accented. I freeze, even though no one is around to overhear him.

"I do hope you are using more discretion on your end," I growl. He laughs, and in my mind's eye, I can see him waving me off, his hand moving lazily in front of his tanned face.

"Oh, how you worry, Panthère. You've always worried so much," he sighs.

I scowl. "I don't have time to wander down memory lane," I warn, feeling agitated.

"Désolée, chéri," he says gently. "I forget how easy it is to rile you up."

I'm silent as I wait for him to get to the fucking point. He sighs. "Panthère, I find myself in a bit of a situation."

I shift forward in my seat. "What do you mean?"

"I've just received word that our entire shipment of ecstasy has vanished."

I freeze, my eyes widening ever so slightly. "How?" I demand.

"I don't know. Believe me; I'm working on getting to the bottom of this," he says, his voice turning to steel. I can picture his generally relaxed face hardening as he speaks. "This, of course, means we won't be able to deliver to you."

I tap my fingers on my desk, scowling. "Do you have any leads?"

He sighs. "Not as of yet," he pauses, and I frown, sensing there is more. "The man you told me about, Aro Passon, has started to make himself known in France."

My spine bristles at the mention of his name, and I grip the edge of my desk, my mood turning black. "He's toxic," I warn.

"I know, Panthère, I know. You have warned me."

"Do you suspect Passon?" I ask, wondering if the two are connected in his mind.

Laurent is quiet for a moment, and I know at the very least I've touched upon a suspicion. "If he is, I can't figure out how," he says finally. "He's been spotted in Paris four times this month, and I know he's met with a few business associates while he was here."

I consider this information, grabbing my Mont Blanc pen and scribbling down my thoughts. "Do you know who?"

Laurent seems uncomfortable sharing the information, and I pause, glancing up from my paper as I wait for him to tell me.

Finally, he sighs. "An Englishman; James Turner. He is married to Victoire Martin, the daughter of Jean-Luc Martin," he says quietly.

"Jean-Luc," I repeat quietly. I know the name, of course. Everyone in our world does. Jean-Luc was one of the single biggest arms dealers in Europe. "Is Victoire taking up the mantle?" I ask, turning back to my notepad.

"Oui," Laurent sighs. "She is more ruthless than her father, and her husband should not be underestimated either."

I frown. I don't know the name James Turner, but I make a note of him anyway.

"What else?" I ask.

Laurent sighs again. Even over the phone, I can hear the years of damage smoking has done to his lungs. "I hear rumors," he says softly. "Whispers coming out of South Africa, d'un marché de la chair."

I pause, my whole body running cold. "A flesh market?" I repeat. "Do you mean…"

Laurent hums. "I don't know, Panthère. Something dark is brewing, though. Something much darker than what either of us has ever dealt with."

I jot down the notes before leaning back in my chair, my mind racing a mile a minute. I don't know for sure that Aro is tied to this flesh market, but I suspect he is right in the nest of it. Aro Passon is one of the wealthiest men in the world, but no one gets to that point without selling themselves and many, many others as well.

"Tu te sens bien?"

I shake my thoughts away, turning my attention back to Laurent. "I'm fine," I snap, waving away his worry. He sighs.

"Perhaps it is time for you to visit France again. Gain some color, drink some wine, bed a few lovers," he suggests lightly. I roll my eyes.

"I don't have time to be frivolous," I tell him.

"Panthère, I am going to tell you advice I know you won't listen to, but it's advice I wish I'd taken when I was your age," he murmurs. I tap anxiously on my desk, waiting for him to go on. "Don't waste this life angry. Our time is too short, and there are too many delicious things to enjoy."

I bristle at his words, instantly defensive. "You were the one who got me started in this world," I snap, my anger lashing out of me. "You were the one who gave me the push I needed."

I'd been a broken, terrified child when I'd arrived on Laurent's doorsteps. He'd taken me in, taught me to be stronger, ruthless. He'd trained me physically, mentally, and emotionally until I'd become utterly lethal. Then he'd sent me back into my world with his full support. I would never have been able to get my own organization off the ground without him.

"I know, Panthère, I know," he sighs. "Sometimes I wonder if I've done the right thing."

I'm offended by the suggestion. "I would be dead," I snap. I can feel him wince over the phone, and he knows I'm right. Either by suicide or a fatal beating, I would not have lived long, had it not been for Laurent.

"I know, Panthère. I am grateful to every saint you found your way home to me."

Laurent is my mother's father, and until I showed up on his doorstep when I was nineteen, he believed me to be dead. After my mother died when I was seven, my tyrant of a father had told her family everyone but him had died.

There had been many times I'd wished I died that night with my mom. Charlie was a mean son of a bitch, and he'd taken his rage out on me after Mom was no longer around to take the beatings. He'd break bones, tell me it was for my own good, and if anyone on the force saw my injuries, Charlie would chuckle and roll his eyes and, with all the charm of a skilled sociopath, would call me clumsy.

And people believed him.

They always believed Charlie, even when there were fist marks against my ribs and belt marks across my back. They believed him even when his youngest daughter was beaten so severely, she lost brain function and became a living vegetable, paralyzed within her own body. No matter how hard I tried to tell people, to convince anyone to help us,Charlie remained an upstanding officer of the law.

The system failed me, and eventually, I learned to keep my mouth shut. Actions, it turns out, really did speak louder than words.

I tap my desk lightly, thinking of all the bastards I'd been able to go after that the system failed to punish. I keep up the drugs and weapons as a means to an income, because this is my true cause. I want to rid the earth of the scum who think they can get away with anything because the system works in their favor.

"Is everything running smoothly, Panthère?"

Laurent's voice jars me out of my thoughts, and I blink, focusing on the phone in my hand. "Yes. Fine," I say, my voice a little too tight and clipped.

He pauses long enough, and I know he realizes something is off with me. "It'll be fine," I amend. "I need to get going. I have a meeting," I lie.

Laurent sighs. "Take care of yourself, Panthère." he urges quietly. "You know if you need anything, all you need do is call."

I bristle at the implication that I don't know how to do my fucking job. "I'll talk to you later," I say stiffly. "Let me know if anything else develops," I add.

"Nous choisissons notre famille[7]," Laurent whispers. "We may be blood, but I chose you all those years ago, Panthère. Don't forget it."

I frown a little. "I know."

Laurent sighs. "Take care, Panthère. We'll talk soon."

We hang up, and I set my phone on my desk, frowning. As far as anyone in my organization is concerned, Laurent is a business associate, and that's it. No one on my end knows of our connection. I can't afford the weakness of family, and he knows that.

My nails tap on the glass surface of my desk; sharp, staccato sounds that reverberate through the hollow ceiling of my vaulted office.

A buzz on the intercom interrupts my drumming, and I glance at the device on my desk. "Isabelle. Emmett and Jasper are here to see you."

I sigh and lean forward, hitting the intercom. "Send them in."

My eyes lift to the double doors as they are pushed open. Jasper's eyes meet mine quickly before he glances at Emmett. I follow his eyes. Emmett is a massive man with thick chords of muscles that bulge out of every shirt he wears. He's always been massive, but he's somehow gotten bigger, meaner looking since he started working for me. I found Emmett on trial for murder. He was unapologetic for the life he'd taken. It had taken me only five minutes of reading the case; reading about the rapist that had been his victim, to decide Emmett was the sort of man I needed around. Though he'd had personal reasons for going after the rapist scum who had attacked his sister, I appreciated the ruthlessness of his actions, the complete surety of them.

Emmett has been an invaluable asset to my team since.

"Aren't you supposed to be at Lykaios's?" I ask, leaning back in my chair. The two men stop at my desk, both opting to stand. I stay sitting, watching them.

"I'll be back there shortly," he says, nodding. "I want to offer you a replacement for me," he says, crossing his arms over his chest. I gaze at him impassively.

"A replacement?" I ask.

Emmett nods. "Someone who can get shit done for you while I'm stationed at Lykaios's," he clarifies. I nod slightly for him to continue. "He's tough as shit, and he takes orders well. I've known him for almost three years now. He can be trusted."

I suck my teeth as I consider it. "I'll be the judge of that," I say after a moment. Emmett nods, understanding. "Fine, set up a meeting."

Emmett shifts, and my eyes narrow on him. "He's downstairs," he says finally. One of my brows lifts, and Emmett shifts back on his feet.

My eyes slide to Jasper, who is watching the large man critically. Jasper's gaze turns to me. "Have you met him?"

Jasper shakes his head slowly, and my wicked sharp nails tap on the desk again. It takes a lot of balls for Emmett to bring someone to me without them being vetted through Jasper first. "Fine. I'll meet with him now."

I stand from behind my desk, immediately finding my balance despite the staggering sharp heel under me. I smooth down the black silk blouse and nod to them both. Emmett turns immediately, heading out of my office. I leave my phone on my desk as I make my way toward Jasper.

"This better not be a waste of my time,"

"I don't think Emmett would dare."

It's a good point. Emmett is profoundly loyal. I trust that whoever he's found will at least be a decent candidate.

We leave my office and head down the long hall toward the elevators. Emmett is quiet and tense as we climb in. Good. He should be nervous recommending someone to me.

"How are things at Lykaios's compound," I ask when the elevators slide shut. He glances at me.

"The man is an ass," he grunts. "He keeps talking about what's been stolen from him," he shakes his head, angry. "But I did hear him mention something about contacting Passon this morning."

My jaw ticks, and I nod. "Stay on him."

Emmett nods in understanding. The elevator arrives on the main level, and we all step out. Emmett leads the way toward the marble-floored foyer of our building, where Gianna sits behind a desk. She glances up when we all come in, then promptly goes back to work.

Standing in front of the large fireplace along the south wall is a tall, lean man with long, light coppery hair falling into his face. He looks up when he hears us come in, his eyes immediately traveling to Emmett before touching upon Jasper and then finally me. It takes me about ten seconds to read him; the defensiveness of his posture, the rigidity of his spine. His smile is a little cocky, but I don't see that in his eyes, which are hard, ready for anything.

It's clear he's not new to our world.

"Edward Masen," Emmett says, holding a hand out to the man. "Meet the boss, Isabelle."

Whew, I wouldn't want to be Edward right now. Facing down Isabelle sounds terrifying to me, personally. Next week, we'll pick up right here, so we'll get to see what his thoughts of her are.

A reminder that on my facebook group, I have HELLA content for this story, so be sure to join us and not miss a post! (Fanfics For Nerds, or link is in profile!)

Finally, if you read my other stories or follow me on FB, you'll know my life has taken a bit of a sudden turn. I'm typically pretty good at prewriting quite a bit, but even that can't cover me forever. I'm working hard to make sure I have chapters done and to my beta on time. I just wanted to give you all a heads up that a possible delay in this story may happen in the next few weeks. If there is a delay, I've got all sorts of bonus content that will probably go up on Facebook, so again, make sure you're following there, just in case.

Okay my dears, I'll see you next week with Edward's chapter!

Translations

1. La Panthère - The Panther (French)

2. Dans une familie, on est attachés les uns aux autres par des fils invisibles qui nous ligotent, même quad on les coupe. - In a family, we are attached to each other by invisible threads that bind us, eve when we cut them. (French)

3. Salut, vieux fou - Hello, crazy old man. (French)

4. Coucou, ma petite panthère. - Hello, my little panther. (French)

5. Désolée, chéri - I'm sorry. (French)

6. d'un marché de la chair - A flesh market. (French)

7. Tu te sens bien - Are you well? (French)

8. Nous choisissons notre famille - We choose our family. (French)