The Obsidian Tower was a fortress of obscene luxury. As we approached, the sight was a jarring contrast to the filth of the neutral zone. A fleet of black limousines lined the velvet-roped streets, and the elite of the world—both human CEOs and high-ranking wolf collaborators—paraded up the red carpet in a sea of silk, silver, and diamonds. It was a display of wealth that felt like a slap in the face to a world that was literally starving for magic.
We arrived in a stolen black SUV, our "formal" wear provided by Silas’s deep-web connections. I wore a gown of midnight-blue silk, the fabric so fine it felt like water against my skin. Silas had mentioned it was woven with micro-filaments of silver, allowing me to channel my power without the friction burning the dress to ash. Killian looked
