The Den had seen its fair share of trouble, but Beckett had expected it to come from inside the club, not from the outside. The robbery and vandalism had been bad enough, but Beckett had brushed it off as a one-time incident. A warning, maybe, but nothing he couldn't handle. 

But this? His suppliers had started pulling out. First one, then another, until nearly half of his regular shipments were either delayed or canceled altogether. Calls going unanswered. Excuses piled up. The bartenders could make drinks out of whatever was left in stock, but it wasn't sustainable. When Beckett would finally get someone on the phone, the answer was always the same. 

"It's just business." 

But that was a lie; because it wasn't about business. It was about him. 

It wasn't hard to put the pieces together. An omega owning a club -- running a club -- it wasn't something certain people liked to see. He had dealt with pushback since the beginning, but now as The Den started gaining real traction, it was clear that some now saw him as more than just an inconvenience. They saw him as competition, and competition that apparently needed to be eliminated. 

Beckett wasn't about to let that happen. Which is why, despite the late hour, he was still in his office trying to find a solution. Gabriel had insisted on sticking around despite Beckett voicing his irritation. They both knew Gabriel wasn't going to listen. 

A knock rattled the frosted glass of Beckett's office door. It wasn't the casual kind -- no rhythm, no familiarity. Just sharp, deliberate thuds. Three of them. Neither of the men were expecting company. Gabriel, who'd been reviewing security logs from his phone, stiffened beside the desk. His eyes lifted to Beckett's, and without a word, he moved towards the door, placing himself slightly in front. 

As soon as Beckett gave a single nod, Gabriel opened the door. 

Two men stood in the hall. Both alphas, both dressed sharp -- too sharp to be regular clubgoers -- but their posture didn't match their polished appearances. It was predatory. 

The taller one, a wolf alpha, gave a slow smile, "We're here to speak with Mr. Lockwood." 

Gabriel's tone dropped an octave, "He's busy." the tiny hairs on the back of his neck had rose, he was ready to strike at a moment's notice. 

"Then you'll want to make time," the shorter man said, reaching into his coat, "Be a good little secritary." he mocked, drawing a slim envelope from an inner pocket and holding it out to the tensed Gabriel, "A message, from Mr. Castellan." 

The name landed like a weight in the room. Beckett had made his way towards the door, lips pressed into a thin line, his eyes remaining steady as he snatched the letter. 

However, once the message was delivered, the two men didn't leave, the wolf alpha wore a smug smirk on his face, "Mr. Castellan would like a response." 

Flipping open the envelope and scanned the contents. His expression giving nothing away, which only put Gabriel on higher alert. 

' Due to an unfortunate misunderstanding, my business proposal was miscommunicated. I'd like to offer my support in helping The Den recover its recent losses. Let us meet to discuss the details further.' 

No signature, just a black insignia stamped at the bottom -- an abstract panther curling around a cluster of roses. Victor Castellan's over compansating calling card. 

Beckett looked up, "So you were behind the vandalism." 

The taller alpha cocked his head, "An associate over stepped. Can't very well invest without seeing what's under the hood." 

Gabriel took a step forward, bristling and baring his teeth, "You mean harassment. Theft. Intimidation." 

Unbothered, the man shrugged before disregarding Gabriel entirely. Choosing to continue his focus on Beckett, "Victor's extending an offer. He thinks this place has potential. He wants a stake." 

"And if I say no?" Beckett asked, quiet but cold. 

The shorter one laughed, "Then you keep bleeding suppliers, cleaning up broken glass, and watching your back." 

Gabriel's hand flexed, ready to strike; however, Beckett reached out and grabbed his arm. His grip was surprisingly strong. The last thing he needed right now was for a bunch of alpha's destroying his office in an all out brawl. 

"Tell Victor I got his message." 

"And?" 

Beckett gave the two alpha's a cold smile, "He'll get his answer soon." 

The two alpha's shared a look before one of them tipped an imaginary hat, "We'll be waiting then." 

Once they left without another word, the silence afterward was thick enough to choke on. 

Gabriel exhaled slowly, "Fuckin' hell, of all the people in this city...it just had to be Victor Castellan." 

Returning to his desk and tossing the note down, Beckett sighed, "He thinks I'll fold, that I'll cut him in just to make ends meet?" 

"And you won't?" Gabriel enquired, "Right?" 

There was quiet fury burning behind Beckett's eyes, "Do I look like the kind of omega who'd bend over at the first sign of trouble?" 

Gabriel chuckled and shook his head, "No Beckett, you sure as hell do not. So, what's the plan?" 

====

The sting of disinfectant bit at Victor's knuckles as he slowly wiped the blood from his hands. The expensive marble sink was splattered red and the white towel draped over his forearm was already ruined. 

He hadn't raised his voice, he never needed to. As he stood over a slumped alpha on the floor, breaths coming in shallow gasps, the feline alpha stared down at the pathetic roo with cold indifference. Sharp blue eyes studied his handiwork; a broken rib or two, nothing life-threatening. Slicking back his inky black hair, Victor spoke softly. 

"I gave you one job," he inspected a fresh cut on his knuckle, "One." 

The roo didn't answer. Smart. 

Victor continued, voice like silk over broken glass, "Break a few things. Send a message. Make sure no one got hurt. And instead, what did you do?" He turned slightly, one brow raised, "You mugged him." 

The man flinched.

"Did I tell you to touch Beckett?" 

"N-no, sir." 

"No," Victor echoed, crouching down, bloody towel still in hand, "You acted on your own. You escalated, and now he knows we're watching. You ruined a perfectly quiet arrangement." 

"I thought --"

Victor's hand shot out and grabbed the other alpha by the ear, nails digging into the soft tissue and drawing out a pained whimper, "Thinking is not your strength, don't confuse action with intelligence," he gave the ear a sharp tug, "Now put your listening ears on and..."

His phone buzzed, Victor allowed it to ring for a moment as he let go of the abused appendage. Getting to his feet, he dropped the towel on the floor in front of the roo, silently enjoying the man squirm. He then answered.

"Talk." 

The voice on the other end was clipped, professional. "We delivered your message to Beckett. He didn't bit, but he didn't throw us out either. Said you'll get your answer soon." 

Victor allowed the words to settle, then slowly smile, "Of course he did."  

Hanging up the phone and tucking it away, he looked down at the man still whimpering on the floor. Victor gave a dry, humorless chuckle, "Well," he said, tone lighter now, almost amused, "Seems you're luckier than you deserve. Things are back on track." 

He then stepped over the alpha like he wasn't even there and walked out, "Clean up that mess." was the last thing he said before the doors closed.