Ex-Mate Wants Me Back (Seraphina and Mortimer) novel Chapter 270

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Chapter 270

Third Person’s POV

“If you got me down here alone just to trash Caldwell, then we have nothing left to say.”

Seraphina cut Mortimer off again. “The cooling-off period ends in three days, and our bond dissolves. I expect you to show up on time, sign the papers, and get this over with.”

Leaving him with that, Seraphina turned on her heel and marched back into the apartment building without a backward glance.

Mortimer stood rooted to the spot, his face incredibly dark.

He didn’t know how long he stood there before a sudden prickle of awareness made him look up.

Up on Seraphina’s balcony, Caldwell was holding Toasty with one arm, a glass of Scotch balanced in his other hand. He raised the glass in a mock, distant toast.

Even in the shadows, his sharp werewolf eyes gleamed with a faint, predatory light. The slight smirk on his lips dripped with unmistakable smugness and sheer provocation.

Mortimer shot Caldwell a warning glare, then turned around, leaving behind a cold, murderous silhouette as he stormed out of the residential complex.

Meanwhile, on the West Coast of North America.

“Sir, our shipment can only pass safely if we use the Craig Group’s shipping line. If Mortimer keeps refusing to cooperate with our company, it’ll be nearly impossible to slip our cargo into their containers. If that happens, it’s going to be hard to give Mr. Moses a straight answer.”

A middle-aged man sat on a spacious leather sofa in front of a floor-to-ceiling window.

A few streaks of silver were combed neatly into his brown hair, but they did nothing to mask the ancient, suffocating aura weighing heavily around him.

The cigar between his fingers burned down, ash glowing bit by bit.

His subordinate waited respectfully before him.

Seeing that his boss remained tight-lipped, the subordinate hesitated, then lowered his voice. “Sir, we don’t have time to wait for Caldwell to take his sweet time anymore.”

The middle aged man finally moved, crushing the cigar out in the ashtray. “What do you suggest we do?”

“Why don’t we do something to give Caldwell a little reminder?”

The subordinate emphasized the word “reminder,” a flash of feral, beastly cruelty crossing his eyes.

The middle aged man understood instantly.

He narrowed his eyes and, after a long silence, murmured, “Caldwell won’t take kindly to that The boy has claws, and he knows how to use them.”

The subordinate frowned, recalling Caldwell’s beast like warnings over the phone, and fell silent as well

But before he could come up with another plan, his boss spoke again, “Do as you said Leaving him without a nudge isn’t going to fix anything. But… don’t go too hard. Don’t actually cross him ”