Kael Dreaven
I stepped out of the car, my boots hitting the pavement with a dull thud. A quick glance around told me there were new faces here today. Fresh blood. Some of them stood stiffly by the entrance, trying too hard to look like they belonged. Others carried themselves with the kind of ease that only came with time—like they already knew what kind of place this was.
The mansion in front of me was grand, almost picturesque, the kind of place anyone would dream of living in at first sight. But if only they knew.
Two men in dark suits and sunglasses stood at the door like statues. They didn't speak, just stepped aside the moment they saw me. Good. At least some people around here still knew their place.
Inside, the air was cold. It always was. Not the kind of cold that made you shiver, but the kind that sank into your bones, the kind you stopped noticing after a while because it just became part of you.
That's how it worked for me.
