9
Vulpes
The morning sun spilled through the blinds, casting a checkerboard of light and shadow across the room. I had just settled into the rhythm of the day, the quiet hum of the city outside providing a backdrop to my thoughts, when the familiar buzz of my phone disrupted the calm. The name Alex flashed on the screen, and a sense of foreboding settled over me. Calls from Alex were rarely for idle chat recently; they were heralds of news, often unwelcome.
"Fennec," Alex"s voice was tight, controlled, but I could hear the undercurrent of anger in it. "You need to see this."
I straightened, my instincts on alert. "What is it?"
"My f*****g office—it"s been turned upside down. And before you ask, nothing"s been taken. It"s a message," he said, the last word heavy with meaning. A message
