CHAPTER 67: BLACKSHORE

3 days ago in the Island

Edmund had been summoned to Blackshore arena for an emergency. The timing alone irritated him, but the reason made it worse.

He hated leaving Lucien behind, especially after agreeing to share him with the Twins.

He never doubted his own superiority, yet the sight of the three of them together ignited something sharp and unpleasant in his chest.

Jealousy was an ugly emotion. It tasted like weakness, and he despised it.

He was better than the Twins in every possible way. Lucien would choose him over them without hesitation.

Edmund believed that completely, yet the feeling still crawled beneath his skin, reminding him that he was not immune.

He looked down at Lucien curled in his arms. Naked and exhausted and glowing softly after everything they had done.

His breathing was slow and even, warm against Edmunds simmering thoughts.

The Leopard brushed Luciens hair aside and whispered against his temple, "I will knock you up and mark you for life."

A quiet laugh escaped him. "Do you really think birth control can stop me? You are a fool, Lucien. A beautiful fool."

Then his phone chimed. Edmunds patience snapped when he answered. Another alert from Blackshore. His private bidding arena was on fire again.

"Fine, I will go there immediately. Don’t do anything stupid, Lance and tell them to all of your crew!"

He closed his eyes and exhaled heavily as the phone ended. Second incident with the same pattern and the same suspect.

Someone had been burning or hacking his businesses and leaving behind the Lucero emblem. His men were already at the limit trying not to retaliate.

But Edmund already knew who was behind it.

"He wants Lunox and Lucero at each others throat," he muttered. "Be subtle next time, Diablo. At least pretend you are clever."

He slipped away from Lucien carefully and ordered the butler to bring his clothes. He also told someone to fetch the Twins.

While he was in the middle of putting on his robe, someone knocked at the door. He already knew who it was.

"Open it."

The Twinster arrived almost instantly, grinning like they had been waiting outside, hungry for the chance to get their hands on Lucien.

"You heading out, young master?" Adrian said.

Edmund raised an eyebrow. "You two really enjoy it when I am not here, do you?"

Silas shrugged. "If you are around, you will not let us play with him. Stick to the agreement, young master."

Their tone always grated on him. Too casual. Too confident. Too sure they could test him without consequence.

If they broke another rule, he had more than enough ways to punish them and they knew it.

He washed up quickly and changed into the clothes prepared for him, every detail exact and immaculate.

When he returned to the bed, he leaned down to press a kiss to Luciens temple. The omega did not stir, too exhausted to wake.

Edmund faced the Twins and his voice was firm and cold.

"Since we are speaking of agreements, let me remind you of the rules. Do not kiss him. Do not finish inside him."

His gaze was sharp enough to cut. "If I return and see even a hint of a stain, your time with Lucien will be over. Understood?"

Both nodded, obedient and silent, but the glance they exchanged said everything. They would push the line. They always did.

It irritated him further, but he had no choice. He needed to leave immediately and resolve this without mistakes.

There was already blood in the water, and the slightest misstep could turn it into a war.

He needed to meet the Basilisk. And if Diablo wanted a game, Edmund intended to finish it.

***

Blackshore was never only a place as it was bigger than that.

It had no specific coordinates, no borders, no headquarters to storm.

It existed as a network threaded through the underworld, binding mafia groups together under a single crest: a black tide curling around a watching eye.

That was the only symbol anyone ever needed to know.

It was essentially a massive black market, but with rules. If a group wanted its own "arena" for auctions, illegal sales, private bidding, even as simple as a website or any other lucrative event, they needed to become VVIP members. And that was really hard to reach.

The Gilded Leopard had spent eight years earning that status. Even Lucero had failed and settled for Gold membership. The fact that Edmund achieved what Lucero could not gave him a fierce, quiet satisfaction.

He loved Lucien more than anything, but he still had his pride. He still wanted to stand higher, to prove he could reach places even Lucien had not touched. And Blackshore was a pillar of that pride.

"Sir, look. Lucero’s emblem is here."

One of his men pointed at the cheap spray-painted crest on the scorched wall.

Another added, "Witnesses said Lucero’s men burned it and ran. Like cowards."

"We need to send a message, Sir. They’re pushing us too far."

Their anger was practically vibrating through the charred room. Edmund took a long drag of his cigarette, letting the smoke curl lazily from his mouth as if the entire disaster was nothing more than a mild inconvenience.

"Where’s Lance? I want a word."

"This way, Sir." One of the guards pushed aside a panel in the wall, revealing a hidden room.

Inside, Lance was angrily lecturing his subordinates. He stopped the moment he saw Edmund enter.

"Sir, I apologize," Lance said with a stiff bow. "This is my failure. I should’ve protected the site."

Edmund waved off the explanation and gestured for everyone else to leave. The room emptied quickly, leaving only the two of them behind.

Sweat dripped down Lance’s temple. Edmund approached and patted his shoulder, calm as ever.

"Relax, Lance. I know how to turn this around. You called the Basilisk, yes?"

"Yes, Sir," he answered, voice tight. "But we don’t know if he’ll respond. Lucero’s... not exactly stable at the moment."

"It’s fine. We wait." Edmund took another slow drag of his cigarette. "What about Mr. D? Did he say anything?"

Lance shook his head. "No. The Aureate hasn’t responded."

"Good. Let him stay quiet," Edmund said as he settled onto the couch, crossing one leg over the other.

The Aureate, the owner of Blackshore, was a ghost of figures. Rumour said there were three of them, even more. As no one know the exact number.

Though they know for sure that Mr. D was the leader. But people rarely seen him. Even Edmund had never meet Mr. D in person, despite their business arrangements.

Then Lance’s phone rang.

He answered quickly, listened, and exhaled.

"The Basilisk will come tomorrow," he said. "He said he needs to get rid of a rat first."

"Tell them I’ll wait." Edmund’s smirk bloomed in the dim room. "We still have lots of thing to fix anyway."

This was perfect timing. The shift he had been waiting for.

’Diablo, you idiot,’ Edmund thought as the smoke curled upward. ’You’ve made it easier for me to negotiate with Lucero. You’re going to regret every second of this.’