Somewhere in the quiet, high-end district of Oakhaven, there was a soft, rhythmic knock on the heavy oak door of Victor’s study. Inside, the room was dimly lit, smelling of expensive leather and cold air.
"Enter," Victor’s voice barked. It was a deep sound that could make anyone obey without question.
A man in a crisp black suit, looking more like a corporate lawyer than a scout stepped into the room. He held a tablet in his hand, his expression carefully neutral, though there was a slight tension in his shoulders that hadn't been there an hour ago. This was one of Victor’s field scouts, a man trained to watch from the shadows without ever being seen.
"Sir," the scout began, bowing his head slightly. "We have the report from the mill district. The extraction of Silas Vane was a failure
