Rosa stood in the grand dining hall of the Ross Mansion. The walls were lined with rich tapestries, and the chandeliers hung like glimmering stars overhead.
A few omega wolves scurried around, adjusting the gold and black decorations, each movement dictated by Rosa’s orders.
“Make sure the red roses are arranged just so,” she instructed with a flick of her wrist, her voice smooth, authoritative. “And the candles should be placed in the middle.” Her eyes were cool, assessing, as she examined a group of omega wolves who were setting up a table draped in black velvet. “It’s a masquerade ball, not a birthday party. Keep the theme... mysterious.”
Her lips curled slightly as she observed their work, control and precision.
From a distance, standing in the corner of the grand archway, Marcus w
