CHAPTER 69: THE BASILISK & THE LEOPARD

New Chapter is in Chapter 66!

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Both mafia leaders sat across from each other, neither willing to begin. The silence between them felt heavy as it keep straches long.

He had been overseeing the transport of all auction items from the port to ensure they were secured inside the vault before the meeting.

A reasonable delay in his mind. But to Salvatore, it marked nothing but disrespect, and the thought carved itself clearly across his expression.

"I apologize for my delay. I had matters to handle first," Edmund said as he took his seat.

"Oh, I believe you did, boy," Basilisk replied, his eyes narrowing like a blade turning.

"Now tell me what this is about. You would not be foolish enough to point a finger at us for arson on your property."

"Of course not, Salvatore. And please, call me Edmund. You may have viewed me as a grandson once, but that was a long time ago."

Edmund poured whiskey into three glasses and handed them to Twilight and the Don.

The old man scoffed, though he still accepted the drink. "My grandsons are Lucien and Dante. You are merely a shard of a past I discarded. It carries no weight."

Twilight chuckled softly as he swirled his glass. "Do not mind him, Edmund. He is just cranky by everything that has been happening. Too much chaos for old joints."

"Cranky?" Salvatore barked a laugh.

"No. I think the games you youngsters play are pointless. In my age, we handled things directly. You point a gun. You pull the trigger. If you die, that is your fate. If you live, glory is yours."

"Well, it is not the old age anymore. And I know you understand what Lucien and I want now." Edmund smirked.

The Don’s face flickered with surprise before it twisted into disbelief at the audacity of the younger man.

"Lucien and you?" He clicked his tongue sharply and looked at Twilight.

"Leave us for a moment. This is family business."

Twilight raised both brows, amused more than concerned. "Alright. But remember, no shooting or brawling. You are old, my friend. Your bones will snap before your pride does."

He patted the Don’s shoulder and slipped out, leaving the two titans alone in the dim, tense room.

"What the fuck are you doing with my grandson?"

Salvatore’s voice cracked through the room, sharp and full of accusation.

The force of it would have rattled anyone else, but Edmund remained seated and relaxed. He even smiled, which only made the old man’s irritation throb hotter.

"All the things an alpha and his omega want," Edmund replied calmly.

"Do you not want your grandson to finally find his mate and settle down?"

Salvatore gasped before erupting into a laugh so hard his cane clattered to the floor.

"Oh boy, you really do not know my grandson. He would rather die than be marked. So do not even dream of it."

Edmund lifted his glass, looking at his reflection in the swirl of the brown liquid. "Then this is about the Famiglia, isn’t it? You do not want them to know he is an omega. That is why you want him far from me."

A vein rose on Salvatore’s temple as his tone dropped. "Do not twist my words or pretend you understand me."

"I do not care if my grandson is an omega. I do not care if every capo wants his neck. I will stand beside him and respect whatever he decides."

He leaned closer, eyes sharp. "But until my grandson tells me to my face that he wants to marry someone, I will not believe a single word you say."

"That is fair," Edmund said with a nod.

"But right now, Lucien is safe beside me. I trust that you will respect his choice and avoid making secret moves to drag him back. Correct?"

The Basilisk’s amethyst eyes widened for a moment before cooling back to their usual guarded calm. He exhaled through a scoff.

"You cannot even reach an agreement with Diablo. Why would I trust you with keeping Lucien safe?"

"If you doubt me that much," Edmund said as he crossed his legs, "why don’t we work together to take down Dominus?"

If Salvatore agreed, then crushing the Devil would become so much easier. And once that thorn was removed, Edmund could keep Lucien by his side forever.

That man needed to be stopped before he caused even more chaos.

Salvatore rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Good. But you need to prove your worth first. Make me call you Edmund, and only then will we work together."

Edmund’s smile turned faintly amused. "If I give you great-grandchildren, would that be enough validation?"

The Basilisk choked hard enough to spit whiskey across the table. His glare was sharp and probing, searching Edmund’s face for any hint of a joke.

But Edmund’s eyes were steady and serious, which left the old man visibly conflicted.

Of course he wanted great-grandchildren. Dante was hopeless, always chasing power. Lucien was the same in his own way.

But now an alpha was sitting in front of him claiming he would mark Lucien and give him children.

And not just any alpha, but someone capable, ambitious, and dangerously well matched for a grandson as complicated as Lucien.

For the first time, the Gilded Leopard opened his mind to a new exciting possibility.

Salvatore cleared his throat. "I will assist you if something happens to Lucien. But other than that, I will not go behind my grandson’s back."

His gaze sharpened. "Now tell me, how many children are you planning to have? Have you considered twins?"

Edmund held back a laugh, lips curving slightly. This was working. Grandfathers always surrendered to dreams of babies. They were weak to family.

"Lucien will be the one carrying our child," he said. "So the number is up to him. Whatever he wants."

"Good. You are already acting like a proper alpha." Salvatore nodded with quiet satisfaction before his tone hardened.

"But if you ever hurt him, even a single hair on his head, I will kill you and burn Lunox to the ground."

"I would never hurt him." Edmund’s voice grew firm. "I love him more than anything. Causing him pain would destroy me as well. You do not have to worry."

Salvatore’s aura began to settle, the storm finally easing as he recognized the truth in Edmund’s words.

They talked for a while, the air between them finally easing from gunpowder to whiskey warmth. When the conversation thinned, Salvatore tapped his cane on the floor and called, "Twilight. Bring Lance back in."

The door opened and both men stepped inside. Twilight lounged at Salvatore’s side, while Lance stood stiff as a board in front of Edmund.

"For the arson," Edmund began, folding his fingers together, "I already know the perpetrator. And I can handle them myself."

"What I need from both sides is simple. Keep your men calm. No tension, no retaliation, no idiots firing shots because someone blinked too loudly."

Twilight hummed thoughtfully. "Would it be smarter if we pretend there’s strain between our families? Make them think we’re about to tear each other apart and strike when they least expect it?"

A clever idea, and it even made Salvatore raise a brow. But Edmund’s lips curved in a slow, dangerous smile.

"No need," he said. "I can handle him just fine. Lucero only needs to sit back..."

He leaned against the chair, confidence dripping like honey from his tone. "...and enjoy the show."

Twilight exhaled a low whistle. Lance swallowed hard.

And Salvatore—just faintly—smirked.

Because for the first time, it felt like both legends might actually be on the same page.