SERAPHINA’S POV
The director’s office looked nothing like I’d imagined.
For someone reputed to be a genius, a visionary, the quiet architect of the Institute’s most advanced research, I expected something grand: vaulted ceilings, ancient tomes, maybe a glowing crystal wolf statue in the corner for dramatic effect.
Instead, the office was…mundane.
A narrow hallway with polished floors. A plain wooden door with a brass nameplate. A potted fern that had seen better days.
And Lionel.
The director’s assistant was tall and sharply put-together, with neatly parted brown hair and round gold-rimmed glasses that made him look permanently judgmental.
He spotted me the moment I stepped into the entryway. His hazel eyes flicked over me with quick, appraising precision, the kind t
