“Call Ferrara and make an appointment to see him today. Pay him in full. Get any paper he has from the brother and have him sign it, date it, and mark it paid. Tell him if a hair on Ian Sullivan’s red head is out of place, Garou will ruin him.”
“Are you sure you want to say that Alpha?” Rémy banged his hand on Armand’s desk.
“Yes, the mob knows that Garou Industries takes care of their own—they don’t touch our people. This isn’t the first time we’ve had to deal with a gambling problem and loan sharks. Not every wolf is a choir boy. If we need backup, I’ll have to call Armand. We can’t kill humans, but we can hurt them if one of ours is threatened, but bending that loup-garou law requires Armand’s approval.” Rémy’s voice went quiet.