The moment I laid eyes on the invitation, a shiver traveled down my spine, chilling me to the bone. The expensive parchment was crisp in my trembling fingers, embossed with the seal of the King of Werewolves himself, Marcel. A grand ball, he penned in a script so flawless it could be mistaken for a font. I could feel the watching eyes in the extravagant lettering, as if he were aware of my every move. The epitome of control.
"What does he want with you?" Ashley's typically sunny voice darkened, her emerald eyes narrowing as she leaned in to catch a glimpse of the invite.
"No idea," I muttered, refolding the invitation a little too forcefully. "But I don't like it."
Natasha shifted in her chair, her cat-like reflexes betraying her feline nature. "It's too... public. What does he have to
