Webb picked the location.
It was a private club tucked into the old financial district. Heavy leather chairs, dim lighting, and a membership list that hadn't accepted an application since the Reagan administration. No sign on the door. No street number. You either had the address, or you didn't exist.
I had the address. Selene had drilled it into my head two years ago.
Cassian walked in with me. He’d insisted, and I was too tired to argue. If Webb was setting a trap, I wanted a guy watching my back who didn't flinch. Cassian showed up in a charcoal, perfectly tailored suit. It should have looked ridiculous on a wolf who spent half his life ripping throats out in the woods, but it fit him like armor. He caught me staring and raised an eyebrow.
"What?"
"Nothing. You clean up."
"I told
