Primal Bonds 2 (Tales of Beastkin)

21. The Valentino Clan

21

The Valentino Clan

T he Valentino Palazzo rose majestically in the heart of New York, a symbol of power and elegance. Its pristine white stone exterior gleamed in the late afternoon sun, the large windows reflecting the sky’s changing hues. Inside, the main hall was a marvel of Italian Renaissance architecture, with soaring ceilings adorned with intricate frescoes and crystal chandeliers that cast a warm glow over the assembled clan members.

Luka Valentino, the alpha wolfkin leader of the clan, cut an imposing figure as he stood at the head of the long, polished mahogany table. His golden hair caught the light, creating a halo effect that only enhanced his commanding presence. His molten gold eyes surveyed the room, taking in the faces of his clan members with a mixture of pride and responsibility.

To his right sat Marco, the second brother and second-in-command, an alpha wolfkin. Marco’s dark-brown hair was neatly combed, and his amber eyes held a sharp, analytical gleam as he reviewed the documents spread before him. On Luka’s left was Dante, the third Valentino brother, the clan’s tech expert and alpha wolfkin, his auburn hair slightly disheveled from running his hands through it in concentration. His hazel eyes darted between his tablet and the other clan members, processing information at lightning speed.

“Now, on to the matter of our investments in the tech sector,” Luka began, his rich voice filling the room. “Dante, what’s the latest on the blockchain project?”

Dante opened his mouth to respond, but before he could utter a word, the large double doors at the far end of the hall swung open dramatically. All heads turned to see Nico, the youngest Valentino brother, saunter in, fashionably late as usual. The young beta wolfkin moved with a grace that belied his mischievous nature, his blond hair catching the light and his gold-brown eyes twinkling with barely contained amusement.

“Sorry I’m late,” Nico announced, not sounding sorry at all. “I had a very important matter to attend to.”

Luka raised an eyebrow. “And what matter might that be, little brother?”

Nico grinned, sliding into an empty seat. “I was conducting a very scientific experiment to determine how many marshmallows I could fit in my mouth at once. You know, for the good of the clan.”

Marco snorted, quickly disguising it as a cough, while Dante didn’t bother hiding his amused smile. Luka, however, fixed Nico with a stern look.

“Nico, we’ve discussed the importance of punctuality, especially for clan meetings. Your presence here is not just a formality; it’s crucial for your understanding of clan operations.”

Nico had the grace to look slightly abashed, but the effect was ruined by the impish glint in his eyes. “Of course, big brother. I promise to take it more seriously in the future. Scout’s honor!” He held up his hand in a mock salute.

Luka sighed, knowing this was likely a promise made to be broken. Nevertheless, he turned back to Dante. “As I was saying, the blockchain project?”

Dante cleared his throat, tapping on his tablet. “Right, so the initial tests have been promising. We’re seeing a fifteen percent increase in efficiency and—”

His words were cut short as the doors burst open once again. This time, it was Leo Rossi, the clan’s chief of security and alpha pantherkin, his muscular frame filling the doorway. His steel-gray eyes were wide with urgency, a rare break in his usually stoic demeanor.

“Luka,” he said, “I apologize for the interruption, but we’ve just received some critical intelligence.”

The atmosphere in the room shifted immediately, all traces of earlier amusement vanishing. Luka straightened, his golden eyes sharpening. “Speak, Leo.”

Leo stepped forward, his voice low but clear. “We’ve just received word that the BCOS has raided one of the Sullivan Clan’s safe houses.”

Luka’s expression remained impassive, but there was a new tension in his shoulders. “Go on.”

“Our sources indicate that the BCOS launched a surprise attack earlier today. The raid was led by Captain Garrett Knox, but it didn’t go as planned. The Sullivans fought back fiercely, and the BCOS forces were decimated.”

Marco leaned forward, his tactical mind already working. “This is a significant escalation. The BCOS hasn’t dared to move against a major clan like this in years.”

Dante was already tapping away at his tablet. “I’m pulling up all the data we have on recent BCOS activities. There’s been an uptick in their operations over the past week. This raid might be part of a larger strategy.”

Luka nodded, his mind racing with the implications. “This changes the playing field significantly. If the BCOS is making bold moves against the Sullivan Clan, we need to be prepared for potential attacks on our own territory.”

“What about Adam Sullivan?” Marco asked. “We haven’t heard much from him in months. Could this raid be in response to something he’s done?”

Leo shook his head. “We don’t have concrete information on Adam’s recent activities, but there are whispers that he’s been working against The Institute. This BCOS raid could be retaliation.”

Luka’s eyes narrowed, a calculating look crossing his face. “Brothers, we need to act swiftly. Marco, I want you to reach out to our contacts in other clans. We need to gauge their reactions to this BCOS aggression and see if they’re willing to form a united front.”

Marco nodded, already pulling out his phone. “I’ll start making calls immediately.”

“Dante,” Luka continued, “dig deeper into the BCOS communications. I want to know if this raid was an isolated incident or if they’re planning more attacks. Also, strengthen our cybersecurity measures. We can’t risk any information leaks.”

Dante’s fingers flew over his tablet. “On it. I’ll have our tech team working around the clock.”

“Leo,” Luka turned to his security chief, “I need you to beef up security at all our safe houses and properties. Increase patrols, implement stricter access protocols, and run drills to ensure our people are prepared for potential BCOS raids.”

Leo nodded grimly. “Consider it done. I’ll also reach out to some of my contacts in law enforcement. They might have inside information on BCOS movements.”

As the alphas continued their discussion, Nico found his attention wandering. The serious expressions, the hushed tones of urgency—it all seemed so dreadfully dull to him. He began to fidget in his seat, his eyes roaming the room for something more interesting.

His gaze landed on an exquisite antique vase perched on a nearby pedestal. It was a beautiful piece, delicate porcelain painted with intricate golden designs. Without really thinking about it, Nico reached out and picked up the vase, turning it over in his hands.

Luka, noticing the movement from the corner of his eye, paused mid-sentence. “Nico,” he said, a warning note in his voice, “please put that down. It’s a priceless Ming dynasty piece.”

Nico grinned, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Oh, come on, big brother. I’m just appreciating our clan’s fine taste in art.” He began to toss the vase from hand to hand, enjoying the look of horror that flashed across Luka’s face.

“Nico,” Luka said, his voice low and dangerous, “if you break that vase, I swear by all that’s holy—”

“Relax!” Nico laughed, continuing his impromptu juggling act. “I’ve got the reflexes of a cat. Or a wolf. Or whatever we’re supposed to be. Speaking of which, why are we called the Valentino clan if we’re all beastkin? Shouldn’t we be the Valentino pack or something?”

Marco, sensing the rising tension, decided to intervene. “Nico, perhaps you’d like to share your thoughts on the situation with the BCOS raid?”

Nico’s eyes lit up, and he set the vase down, much to everyone’s relief. “Oh, you want my expert opinion? Well, why didn’t you say so earlier?”

Luka, seeing an opportunity to redirect Nico’s energy, nodded. “Yes, Nico. What do you think about the BCOS raid and The Institute’s involvement?”

Nico leaned back in his chair, a look of exaggerated contemplation on his face. Then, without warning, he launched into a breathless monologue. “Okay, so here’s what really happened. The BCOS didn’t just raid the Sullivan safe house, they were actually following a trail of breadcrumbs left by time-traveling ninja beastkin from the future! But not just any beastkin—these were supersecret double agents working undercover in The Institute. They came back in time to prevent the great alpaca uprising of 2525, which, as we all know, is the real threat to beastkin society.

“But wait, it gets better! Adam Sullivan? He’s not just your average alpha. He’s actually a daemon in disguise, complete with sparkly wings and a magic wand! And get this—he’s got a secret omega hidden away in his mansion. Rumor has it, this omega can turn invisible and shoot lasers from their eyes. Talk about security system upgrade!

“So there Adam was, training this elite force of ninja kitsunes in the art of extreme beastkin baking, because obviously, the key to saving the future is the perfect soufflé. But then, plot twist! He stumbles upon this ancient, magical mirror in the aliens’ spaceship. And guess who was trapped in the mirror? None other than the legendary omega from our childhood stories! You know, the one who’s supposed to have the power to turn any alpha into a super-powered daemon? Well, Adam, being the dashing hero he is, frees this omega with true love’s kiss. Classic fairy-tale stuff, right?

“But wait, there’s more! Turns out, the omega is actually half-unicorn, half-robot, programmed by the future beastkin to guard the sacred Golden Flea Collar of Ultimate Alpha Power. And now they’re on the run from the intergalactic paparazzi who want to expose their secret identities as undercover agents for the Department of Mythical Creatures! So, obviously, they had to come back to our time to hide out. I bet if we look closely, we’ll catch this omega leaving a trail of glitter and circuitry wherever they go. Oh, and we should probably prepare for random outbursts of synchronized dance numbers—I hear that’s how ninja kitsunes communicate in the future.

“And don’t even get me started on Adam’s bestie, Dr. Chase. He’s not just running a clinic; he’s got a secret lab where he’s trying to create the ultimate beastkin by combining DNA from every known species. Last I heard, he accidentally created a half-wolf, half-octopus beastkin. Eight legs and a furry tail—can you imagine the pants situation?

“Oh, and let’s not forget about Vanessa.” Nico visibly shuddered. “She’s not just handsy; she’s part octopus too! Those grabby hands of hers? Tentacles in disguise. She’s probably in cahoots with Dr. Chase. I bet she volunteered for his crazy experiments. That’s why she’s always trying to grab me—she’s testing out her new suction cup fingers!

“So there the BCOS was, stumbling into this elaborate scheme, thinking they’re hot stuff with their fancy guns and tactical gear. Little did they know, they were actually participating in an intergalactic reality TV show called Extreme Makeover: Beastkin Edition . The Institute? Oh, they’re just a front for an underground knitting circle run by retired supervillains who are trying to create the world’s largest sweater to combat global warming.

“But here’s the kicker—Adam Sullivan isn’t just working against The Institute, he’s actually their chief taste-tester for a new line of alpha-enhancing energy drinks. The raid was just a cover-up for a failed flavor experiment. I heard the Howling Hurricane flavor made test subjects grow extra tails!

“And don’t even get me started on the secret underground tunnels connecting all the beastkin safe houses. They’re not for security—they’re for hosting the annual Beastkin Breakdance Battle Royale. Winner gets a lifetime supply of flea collars and a chance to star in the next big beastkin boy band. I’m telling you, it’s all connected! And somewhere in the middle of all this chaos is Adam, probably floating around on his sparkly daemon wings, sipping his extra-tail-growing energy drink, and wondering why his octopus-wolf hybrid keeps getting stuck in doorways!”

As Nico finished his breathless monologue, the room fell silent. Marco was trying desperately to hold in his laughter, his face turning red with the effort. Dante had given up all pretense and was doubled over, clutching his stomach as he howled with mirth. Leo, standing by the door, had his hand over his mouth, his shoulders shaking with suppressed laughter.

Luka, meanwhile, was pinching the bridge of his nose, fighting a losing battle against the smile tugging at his lips. “Nico,” he said, his voice a mixture of exasperation and amusement, “remind me never to ask for your input on clan matters ever again.”

Nico beamed, clearly pleased with the reaction he’d elicited. “Hey, you asked for my thoughts. Don’t blame me if they’re too advanced for your simple alpha brains to comprehend.”

After the laughter died down, Luka shook his head, but there was fondness in his eyes as he regarded his youngest brother. “Right, well, now that we’ve had our dose of… creative thinking, let’s get back to the matter at hand.”

Luka turned back to the group, his expression serious once more. “Here’s what we’re going to do. Marco, I want you to reach out to our contacts in the other clans, see what they know about Adam’s return and gauge their positions on our potential challenge at the Summit. Dante, dig deeper into those encrypted communications. Leo, beef up our security protocols. If Adam’s making moves against The Institute, there might be backlash.”

The alphas nodded, their expressions grave. Luka turned to Nico, who was balancing a pen on his nose. “And Nico…”

Nico looked up, the pen clattering to the table. “Yes, oh wise and powerful alpha?”

Luka sighed. “I need you to use that charm of yours to gather gossip at the pre-Summit events.”

Nico’s eyes lit up with mischief. “Oh, so you want me to be a supersecret spy? Should I wear a disguise? Maybe a fake mustache and a top hat?”

Luka pinched the bridge of his nose, fighting a smile. “Just be yourself, Nico. Your natural ability to… stir things up… should be more than enough.”

As the meeting adjourned and the clan members filed out of the room, Luka held Nico back with a gentle hand on his shoulder. When they were alone, Luka’s expression softened.

“Nico, I know these meetings can be boring for you, but they’re important. You’re a vital part of this clan, even if you don’t see it yet.”

Nico’s usual mischievous demeanor faltered for a moment, revealing a hint of vulnerability. “I know, Luka. It’s just… sometimes I feel like I don’t really fit in with all this alpha business.”

Luka pulled him into a warm embrace. “You fit in perfectly, little brother. Your spirit, your creativity—they bring life to this clan. We’d be lost without you.”

Nico hugged him back, burying his face in Luka’s chest. “Even if I break priceless vases?”

Luka chuckled, ruffling Nico’s hair. “Even then. Though, please, try to restrain yourself. My heart can only take so much.”

As they parted, Nico’s impish grin returned. “No promises. Someone’s got to keep you on your toes, right?”

Luka shook his head, smiling. “Go on, you little troublemaker. And Nico?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you, kid. Never change.”

Nico’s grin softened into a genuine smile. “Love you too, big brother.”

As Nico bounded out of the room, his energy seemingly inexhaustible, Luka turned to look out the window at the New York skyline. Later that evening, Luka slipped into a sleek black car, its tinted windows concealing him from prying eyes. The vehicle glided through the city streets, eventually arriving at a secluded, opulent building on the outskirts of town. This was no ordinary guesthouse; it was the Red Department of The Institute, a luxurious establishment catering to the wealthy elite’s darker desires.

The building’s facade was an architectural marvel, blending classical and modern designs. Marble columns framed the entrance, while floor-to-ceiling windows reflected the setting sun. Inside, the décor was a tasteful mix of antique furnishings and cutting-edge technology, creating an atmosphere of timeless luxury.

As a prestigious guest, Luka, operating under the alias of Mr. Russo, was greeted with utmost deference. A well-dressed attendant led him through corridors adorned with priceless art, the plush carpet muffling their footsteps. Suddenly, a commotion erupted ahead. A foxkin boy came tearing down the hallway, his bare feet silent on the thick carpet.

The boy was breathtakingly beautiful, a vision that made Luka’s heart stutter in his chest. His ink-black hair cascaded around his face like liquid midnight, framing features that seemed carved from the finest porcelain by a master artisan. His skin was milky white, unblemished and glowing with an otherworldly luminescence that seemed to capture and reflect the soft light of the hallway. But it was his eyes that truly captivated Luka–dark, fathomless pools that held both defiance and fear, like storm-tossed seas under a moonless sky.

The foxkin boy wore a sheer, gossamer-thin robe that left little to the imagination. The fabric clung to his lithe form, accentuating every curve and plane of his body. Delicate silver chains adorned his wrists and ankles, tinkling softly with each movement. A collar of black leather encircled his slender neck, a stark contrast to his pale skin. The sight of it made Luka’s pulse race, a primal part of him longing to replace it with his own mark.

In his haste, the boy collided with Luka, his small hands instinctively clutching at Luka’s shirt. Their eyes met, and Luka felt an instant, overwhelming attraction that threatened to consume him entirely. The foxkin’s scent, an intoxicating blend of wild forests and sweet nectar, filled Luka’s senses, making his head spin and his mouth water.

Before Luka could react, to pull the boy closer or to shield him, The Institute staff appeared at the end of the hallway. Two burly men in crisp uniforms rushed forward, roughly grabbing the foxkin’s arms. The boy let out a small, pained whimper that tore at Luka’s heart as they wrenched him away.

“Our sincerest apologies, Mr. Russo,” one of the staff members said, bowing deeply. “This little troublemaker has been causing problems all evening. We assure you, he will be properly disciplined for disturbing our esteemed guests.”

The other man tightened his grip on the boy’s arm, causing him to wince. “Come on, you little brat. Time to learn your place.”

Luka struggled to maintain his composure, disgust roiling in his gut at their treatment of the beastkin. Every fiber of his being screamed to intervene, to snatch the boy away from their cruel hands and punish them for daring to touch him. But he knew he couldn’t reveal his true feelings–there was too much at stake, too many lives depending on his ability to maintain this charade.

“See that it doesn’t happen again,” Luka managed to say in his guise as Mr. Russo, his voice cold and detached despite the turmoil within him.

Reluctantly, Luka watched as they dragged the boy away. The foxkin’s eyes, meeting Luka’s one last time over his shoulder, held a fire that spoke of more than just survival–they burned with the promise of retaliation, a determination that matched the inferno raging in Luka’s own heart. It took every ounce of Luka’s considerable willpower not to intervene, to maintain the facade of the indifferent, entitled guest that The Institute expected him to be.

As the boy disappeared around the corner, Luka clenched his fists at his sides, his nails digging into his palms. The memory of the foxkin’s touch, his scent, the look in his eyes–it was all seared into Luka’s mind, a brand that he knew would haunt him for nights to come.

Once in his private room, Luka sank into a plush armchair, a glass of wine in hand. His thoughts kept returning to the foxkin boy, his beauty, his defiance, the feel of him in Luka’s arms. The alpha in him growled with possessive desire.

A soft knock interrupted his musings. The door opened, and a petite beastkin man entered. Arden moved with silent grace, his lithe form belying his agility and strength. His silky tawny hair fell just above his shoulders, framing a face of delicate beauty. Large, expressive green eyes flecked with gold met Luka’s gaze with a mix of respect and mischief. Once the door was securely closed behind him, he knelt before Luka, his posture perfect.

“Master Luka,” he greeted softly, a hint of a smirk playing on his full lips.

Luka’s demeanor shifted instantly, recognizing his undercover agent. “Arden,” he acknowledged. “Tell me about that foxkin boy I encountered in the hallway.”

Arden nodded, his voice low and measured, a stark contrast to his youthful appearance. “His name is Kuro. He was transferred here about six months ago. He’s become quite popular among the elite clientele due to his exceptional beauty and spirited personality.”

Luka’s eyes narrowed, his interest piqued. “Is that so? And what else can you tell me about him?”

“He’s proven difficult to control,” Arden replied, a glimmer of admiration in his eyes. “The staff often struggle with his defiance. He seems to have a strong protective instinct toward the other beastkin here.”

Luka’s jaw clenched, a mix of desire and protective instinct surging through him. “I want him, Arden. But he’s not the only one we need to save. It’s time we put our plan into action. We’re going to destroy this entire operation and free every beastkin in the Red Department in New York.”

Arden’s eyes widened slightly, but he quickly composed himself, his quick mind already racing with possibilities. “Of course, Master Luka. This is what we’ve been working toward. What would you like me to do?”

“I need you to gather every piece of information you can. I want to know about every beastkin held here, their routines, the staff schedules, security measures, everything. We need a foolproof plan to extract them all without raising suspicions until it’s too late.”

“Understood, Master,” Arden replied, his voice laced with determination. “It’s a massive undertaking, but I’ll make sure we have all the necessary intelligence.”

Luka nodded, his mind already racing with possibilities. “Good. This Red Department has operated in the shadows for too long. We’re going to bring it all crashing down. Now, what of your report on the current situation?”

Arden straightened, his demeanor shifting to one of focused professionalism, and he began his report.