My Vampire Harem Will Dominate Everything

"Try me." Ezra stated, his gaze unwavering. "You know I can and will. This is not a bluff. Every day you hold on to the gang, you risk losing more than just money."

Macmillan's fingers drummed on the table, his mind visibly working through the implications. Griffin watched the exchange with keen interest, his expression neutral but his eyes sharp.

"Ezra is right," Olivia added, her voice calm but firm. "We are not playing games here. The reward for failure is death and you know we have the capability to follow through on our threats."

The tension in the room spiked, each party waiting for Macmillan's next move. Ezra could see the gears turning in his mind, weighing the risks and benefits. The more people he lost, the harder it would be for him to get whatever assets he wanted to pull out. It was much harder to maintain a gang when all gang members are gone.

Griffin leaned forward slightly, his mechanical voice cutting through the silence. "Macmillan, you find yourself in a rather precarious position. Perhaps it would be wise to consider the broader implications of your decision."

Macmillan finally broke the silence, his voice tinged with reluctance. "I need time to consider this," he said.

"Time is something you don't have," Ezra retorted. "Decide now, or we proceed with our plan."

Macmillan's jaw clenched, and he looked to Griffin for some form of intervention. Griffin remained silent, indicating that the decision rested solely with Macmillan.

"That's all you'll be getting." Macmillan leaned back. "Time. Take it or leave it."

Ezra and Olivia exchanged a glance. They had no other choice. "Alright."

"We'll be back in a week." Macmillan stated. "We're done here." He stood up and swept out of the room. Aaron stood up and sneered at Ezra. "Not cool, bro. Not cool at all." He gave Griffin a last glance before following Malachi.

As the door closed behind them, Griffin let out a low chuckle. "Interesting approach, Ezra. Threats can be effective, but they also breed enemies. Make sure you're prepared for the fallout."

Ezra nodded. "We've taken that into consideration. It's either this or our deaths. Whatever happens, we'll be ready. Thanks for your time, Count Griffin."

Griffin stood, his amusement not fully concealed. "Thank you for not wasting mine. Negotiations are delicate, but sometimes a show of force is necessary to get things moving. Just ensure that the next time we meet, the situation is more... favorable." He left, his ever-present assistant following without a backward glance.

"That went well." Ezra sighed.

***********

Under a sky lit by the light of the full moon, Macmillan paced nervously in a rooftop greenhouse garden, his fingers drumming against the cold metal of a nearby table filled with potted plants.

The flowers shimmered in the light and with Macmillan's attractiveness, made it look like a scene from an otherworldly picture. Macmillan's eyes flickered to his watch, the ticking sound amplified in the silence.

He glanced around the greenhouse, its glass walls reflecting the moonlight. He inhaled, taking the thick scent of flowers before exhaling loudly. He checked his watch again, the minute hand crawling forward with agonizing slowness. The emptiness around him seemed to press in, each second stretching into an eternity.

Finally, a figure emerged from the darkness. Stepping into the faint light, they were cloaked in black, their face obscured by a hood and mask. Despite the concealment, the figure exuded an aura of deadly competence, their movements fluid and assured.

"You came," Macmillan said, his voice a mix of relief and urgency.

The figure nodded, their voice revealing a feminine lilt. "You have a job for me?"

Macmillan handed over a dossier, his fingers trembling slightly as he did so. "Yes. Two targets. High priority. This has to be clean and quick. Preferably before a week is up."

The figure flipped through the pages, humming softly to themself. The dossier contained detailed information and photos of Ezra and Olivia. For a moment, they stood silently, absorbing the information.

After a pause, the figure looked up. "I can't take this job," she said, her tone firm. "I have an interest in one of these targets for reasons of my own. Maybe Olivia Wilde but not Ezra Matten."

"It's just a stupid newborn." Macmillan's frustration bubbled over. "You know what? I'll pay you fifty million credits."

The greenhouse fell silent, the tension almost palpable. Finally, the figure nodded. "Consider it done."

"Fuck yes." Macmillan let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding and turned to leave. As he walked away, the figure remained still, a shadow against the backdrop of plants and glass.

Once Macmillan had disappeared from view, the figure moved towards a wall covered with vines. With a swift, practiced motion, she pushed through the greenery to reveal a hidden door.

She invited a code and the door clicked open. She entered the concealed room, welcomed by the sight of numerous vials filled with labeled concoctions, their contents glowing faintly in the dim light.

She moved with purpose, pulling away a red curtain that obscured one wall. Behind it lay a detailed map, photographs of Ezra pinned in a complex web of strings and annotations. The figure placed a hand on her hip as the other hand traced a finger through the strings.

She hummed to herself, a low, thoughtful sound. "The fruit of our labors. It seems like we'll be using our information for a much different reason. We'll, there's a thing as being unlucky, Ezra Matten."

Pulling out a small black smartphone, she made a call. After a few seconds of ringing, the line clicked, and a feminine voice answered on the other end.

"Sisters," she said, her voice filled with quiet authority. "We have a job. Fifty million credits in exchange for Ezra Matten's death."

After a few seconds of listening, she clicked off the phone.

With that, she pulled off her hood and mask, revealing a face half obscured by a red scarf. Her eyes, sharp and calculating, scanned the wall once more as she made preparations for the mission.

Someone would be dying before the week was up.