Darius’s pov :
The warehouse door creaked shut behind Jessy Silverfang, her footsteps fading into the snowy night like a ghost slipping away. I leaned back against the rickety table, the single bulb overhead swaying gently, casting erratic shadows across the dusty crates and rusted beams. The air was thick with the scent of old oil and decay, mingled with the sharp tang of whiskey still lingering on my tongue.
I poured myself another glass, the amber liquid glinting as I swirled it, savoring the burn as it slid down my throat. Jessy, ambitious, fiery, predictable. She'd taken the bait like a starving wolf, her alpha pride blinding her to the strings I was pulling. Perfect. One more pawn in place.
A soft shuffle from the shadows behind a stack of forgotten machinery caught my ear
