Alaric’s POV
The phone wouldn’t stop buzzing. I stared at it for a moment, letting the screen vibrate against the polished wood of my desk. It was barely nine in the morning, and the calls had already started coming in. Business, disputes, and the usual mess that came with running a criminal empire. I took a long sip of my coffee, savoring the bitter taste as I mentally prepared for the onslaught.
I finally picked up the call, putting it on speaker as I sifted through the stack of papers in front of me. “Talk.”
“It’s Dante,” came the gruff voice on the other end. “We’ve got a situation at the docks. One of the shipments was flagged by customs. They’re asking questions.”
“Didn’t we grease enough palms for this not to be an issue?” I leaned back in my chair, pinching the bridge of my nos
