Nixon’s POV
"Tell me who paid you, or I drop the girl next."
The thick rubber of my industrial gloves squeaked as I clenched my fists. The scent of raw, concentrated wolfsbane juice already filled the stone cellar. It smelled like battery acid and burnt hair. It was sharp enough to make my eyes water and coat the back of my throat in a bitter, chemical film.
In the centre of the room sat the heavy iron barrel. The dark, oily liquid sloshed against the rusty edges every time someone breathed too hard.
"Please, Alpha!" One of the Omega maids dropped to her knees. Her shins hit the wet stone floor with a dull slap. "We do not know anything! We would never hurt the Grand Luna!"
The sentinels standing against the wall did not speak. Their hands trembled against their leather holsters. Thei
