7
Vulpes
The evening had settled over the city like a velvet shroud, and I was in my element, the hum of the tattoo gun in my hand as I etched a phoenix rising from ashes onto the back of a client. The shop was quiet, save for the soft buzz of the needle and the low murmur of downtempo beats playing in the background.
It was late, and I was looking forward to the solitude that awaited me at home. That"s when Kline walked in, his presence a stark contrast to the laid-back vibe of the shop. He was dressed in a suit that screamed money and carried a garment bag with a precision that suggested it contained more than just fabric.
"Evening, Fennec," he greeted, his voice smooth as he set the bag down with care. "Wolfe sends his regards and a little something for tonight"s event."
I raised a
