If hell had a lobby, it would look exactly like the packhouse did now.
The building used to feel alive…warm lights, laughter echoing down the halls, the smell of cedar and roast dinners drifting from the kitchen. Now it was all stone, silence, and the faint metallic scent of weapon oil. Nathan’s soldiers stood everywhere, rigid and expressionless, like they’d been carved out of the walls themselves.
I muttered under my breath, “Nice. He redecorated in full ‘hostile takeover chic.’”
One of the guards glanced at me but didn’t say anything. Probably smart.
The hallway stretched long and sterile, my footsteps echoing against marble that had never been this clean when it belonged to us. The air felt too cold, too sharp…like even the house knew it had a new Alpha.
When we reached the office
