DAVE
Pulling over at ‘THE WILDERS’, I killed the engine, my fingers tightening slightly on the steering wheel as I stared at the building.
Would Cedric even want to see me?
I have to admit, within the walls of this building, I held no real power. That was an undeniable fact. But that didn’t mean I would carry myself as anything less than who I was.
With the flowerpot in my grip, I approached the front desk. The receptionist, a young woman with neatly pinned-back hair looked up at me expectantly.
“Inform Wilder that Wystan is here to see him,” I instructed.
She nodded and scooted her chair closer to the computer, her fingers poised over the keyboard. “Do you have an appointment?”
I lifted the flowerpot slightly, a slow smirk tugging at the corner of my lips. “I suppose you could call
