His lips pressed together in a hard line at the sound of those weapons being drawn and yet, Tetradore hardly seemed bothered by this chain of events in any regard. After all, the man was the very definition of fear, able to create it with a small flick of his wrist. It often served him well in the past, ensuring those business deals went down to the exact specification that he'd so agreed upon. His lips parted, fully intending to give those men one final chance before he forced them to so bend to his will. Unfortunately, those words never quite left his lips before a body quite near fell from the ceiling, two of those men near falling to the ground in seconds, daggers so protruding from their figure. Well fuck. A hiss left his lips as he stepped back from that small group of black suited men, his striking emerald eyes so following that thin frame as it moved with speed and grace from guard to guard, dispatching them with a marked efficiency. The scent of blood that filled the air hardly bothered him, much less the corpses left within their wake or the scream that filled the void of that warehouse. Rather, Tetradore merely watched with furrowed brows as those seconds turned to a minute and the massacre only further increased.

It was the sound of that feminine voice that drew his attention near immediately towards the female assassin, the man entirely capable of making that connection on not only whom she was but why she was doing this. Yes, he was sure Ivan sent his regards, though he was also certain that it wasn't his contact whom the vampire had so really intended to send that message to. A scowl crossed his lips, as he stepped forward towards the girl, entirely certain she wouldn't turn her knife upon him. That sickening sweet simper upon her lips as she insisted, being his territory, that he would see to the bodies only served to cause his bright emerald eyes to narrow. Tetradore was hardly phased by those blood puddles he stepped through to close the space between them as she turned from him, clearly intending to leave with a job well done. "What the fuck, Vhalla?!" He called after her, his annoyance only increasing when she failed to stop. The were-King reached out towards her, his hand encircling her wrist as she stepped over the threshold of that warehouse. He tugged the woman roughly back inside, tossing her lightly, but firmly against the nearby wall.

There was no denying that look of anger upon his features and yet even despite his agitation, Tetradore was hardly as cruel in his touches as that vampire that so near owned her. "You couldn't fucking wait till I got paid? Jesus Christ, I'm out half a million because of you. You tell your precious Ivan that if he fucks with my business again I will take his damn pet away from him one way or another." There was little doubt within his hissed lyrics that it was Vhalla herself he was so referring to, though what he intended to do with her still remained to be seen. Rather, it was a suggestion the man was entirely willing to let her wonder whilst so entirely willing to threaten Ivan with the very thing it was clear he so feared. He pushed her away from him with a growl in the back of his throat, the man returning to his vehicle only to pluck that crate from the base of his car. He approached the woman once again, quite near throwing that large crate into her chest. "Congratulations, Vhalla, you've found yourself the proud owner of three ethiopian aboriginal skulls." There was a certain audible roughness to his masculine lyrics, his displeasure in her quite clear upon his features. After all, Tetradore knew well that she had known exactly what she had been doing.

She could have waited. Hell, she could have warned him. She could have stayed her hand after those guards were taken out till that cash had been transferred into his care. She had chosen not to. Her petty vengeance had intervened with his business, a point which the man had particularly little patience with. He paused as he returned towards his vehicle, scoopy that suitcase from beneath that fallen figure. He hardly cared that the leather had now been stained that red color for the man's blood, much less the way it got on his hand as he pulled that suitcase. Frankly, he'd rather have it on his hands then in his mouth as he so frequently did during his own captivity. He continued back towards the bright blue sports car, calling over his shoulder in the process, "Take care of your own god damned bodies. I'm sure as hell not cleaning up after Ivan." He was not Ivan's pet, nor was he going to fall in line with what the vampire so clearly desired out of him. The vampire truly had no idea of whom he was dealing with. He hardly held a candle to what Tetradore had endured beneath the cold, callous hands of Risque. Tetradore placed the suitcase on the top of his vehicle's hood, carefully ensuring only the unbloodied side touched the car's paint. It was with delicate care that he popped the latches of the suitcase, beginning to count the money he was able to recover, his thoughts entirely focused on whether or not this was enough to at least break even. There were men relying on him to pay their home bills, officials who'd looked the other way, bribes that needed to still come through. Fucking hell. What a god damned awful day it was becoming.