The Velvet Fang was a temple.
Not a sacred one, of course—but one built to worship bodies and what they could do in the shadows.
There was music, yes. But it pulsed like blood.
A low vibration felt more in the chest than in the ears.
The lights were dim, in hues of wine, amber, and dark blue. Just enough to see… and not see.
We passed through the main room like we weren’t looking for anything.
Like we’d come only to sin.
Meyra veered off after a few steps. Her part was done.
"Good luck, little wolves," she said with a feline smirk. "Don’t bite off more than you can bleed for."
We didn’t answer.
The place was packed.
Not with regular people.
Shifters of every kind. Wolves, yes—but also felines, bears… many of them mixed, all hiding what they were beneath flawless skin and danger
