Wolf's Passion Addiction

"Don't move or I'll scatter your brains across the asphalt, Sora Valente."

The voice was heavy, gravelly, emerging from the darkness of the alley beside the Aruna Gallery. Sora froze. Cold nine-millimeter steel pressed against the nape of his neck. Only three hours in Lunastre and he could already smell gunpowder cutting through the scent of rotting snow.

"I don't have any money," Sora hissed. He forced his jaw to stay steady.

A dry laugh erupted behind him. "Money? Your father owns the bank. We’re just here to deliver a message."

Corvin. Those bastards didn't waste time. Sora swung his canvas bag with every ounce of strength. The dull thud as the bag collided with the gunman’s face gave Sora his opening. He ran. His shoes pounded against the slick cobblestones. His breath came in ragged bursts, stinging his lungs. He didn't look back as he shoved through the crowd of tourists and slammed into the heavy wooden door marked The Golden Howl.

The stench of stale beer, cigarettes, and sweat hit his nostrils. Low jazz pulsed through the room, vibrating against the damp floorboards. Sora leaned against the wall, his heart hammering against his ribs.

Two men in leather jackets appeared behind the bar’s glass window. Waiting. Like vultures circling a carcass. Sora walked to the bar and ordered the cheapest whiskey. He needed a distraction.

"Sora? Are you insane coming here?"

It was Marco. His old friend looked pale in the dim corner. Sora approached him, downing his whiskey in one sharp gulp. The liquid burned a path down his throat.

"Corvin knows I’m here, Marco."

"Lunastre isn't your playground, Sora," Marco whispered, terrified. "Humans only handle the logistics here. The rest is controlled by monsters from the dark."

Sora snorted, but the hair on the back of his neck stood up. The atmosphere in the bar suddenly turned heavy. Oxygen seemed to vanish from the room. On the second floor, behind a wrought-iron railing, a man sat in silence. He swirled a crystal glass filled with amber liquid. The low light caught the reflection of his eyes. Yellow. Sharp. Like a bored predator.

"Who is he?" Sora asked.

Marco looked down immediately. "Don't look. That’s Vardan Kaldreon. He owns this place. He owns the life of anyone he wants."

Vardan stood. He descended the wooden stairs without a sound. Every step carried a physical weight of intimidation. The scent of cold pine forest and heavy rain suddenly buried the smell of beer around Sora. A massive shadow fell over the table.

"You’re loud," Vardan growled. His voice was low, vibrating deep in Sora’s spine.

"I'm just having a drink," Sora challenged.

Vardan leaned in. His broad shoulders locked Sora into place. "Your coward friend ran off a long time ago."

Sora glanced over. Marco’s chair was empty. Dammit. Adrenaline and fear twisted together in his gut. "What business do you have with me?"

Vardan brought his face close to Sora’s neck. He inhaled sharply, a raw sniff like a wolf identifying its prey. His breath was hot, a stark contrast to Sora’s cold skin.

"You carry the scent of trash," Vardan whispered into his ear. "The smell of Valente blood that I should have wiped from this city a long time ago."

Sora shoved the man's hard chest. It was useless. Vardan didn't budge an inch. "Don't touch me."

Vardan’s grip locked around Sora’s wrist. It was tight enough to make the bone feel like it was ready to snap. "Get upstairs."

"No."

Vardan smirked. It was cruel. "The choice is simple. You come up with me, or I let those Corvin dogs outside drag your corpse to the harbor."

Sora looked at the entrance. The two men were already positioned. Bastards. Vardan hauled him toward the second floor. They entered a sprawling office that smelled of old wood and expensive leather. Vardan kicked the door shut, locked it, and tossed his black coat onto a chair.

"What do you want?" Sora backed into the door.

Vardan surged forward. He caged Sora in with both hands. "Do you know what a wolf does to a stray lamb?"

"I'm not a lamb."

"Correct. You're poison. Beautiful, but you need to be eradicated."

Vardan gripped Sora’s chin, forcing him to meet those hungry yellow eyes. Suddenly, gunfire erupted downstairs. Screams and the sound of shattering glass followed. Sora jolted, trying to break free, but Vardan remained calm as if it were only the sound of the wind.

"Your father’s men coming to get you?" Vardan asked coldly.

"I don't know!"

Vardan ripped Sora’s collar. Buttons tore off, bouncing across the floor. "Then let’s see how much your life is worth tonight."

Sora trembled as Vardan pressed his body tighter against him. Their noses brushed. The scent of pine and danger was intoxicating.

"Vardan, there are people downstairs..." Sora whispered in a panic.

"Let them die," Vardan hissed, pressing his hips into Sora. "You stay here. A prisoner for a hungry wolf."