The Grand Salon was a masterclass in Southern opulence- and now, it was a trap.
The six vampires remaining in the room had heard the explosion of the front doors, but they had relied on their titles and their ancient lineages to act as a shield. They were the elite of the Night Trade, lords of the South who believed the world operated on contracts and coin.
Then the shadow filled the doorway.
Fenris didn't roar. He didn't issue a challenge. The Alpha Rage had moved past noise into a terrifying, pressurized silence. He stood in the entrance, a towering silhouette of matted fur and shifting muscle, his eyes two burning pits of molten amber that seemed to drain the light from the room.
The air temperature plummeted. The cloying scent of lilies and blood-wine was obliterated by the sm
