"I’ve already used it all."The four words slipped effortlessly from Ronan’s lips, as casual as ordering a morning coffee. Yet, to the middle-aged man across the desk, the statement hit like an atomic bomb."What?!" Gerald exhaled sharply; his lined face instantly flushed a deep, tomato-red—as if he were about to burst. "How could you—""Why couldn't I?" Ronan smoothly interjected, leaning back in his expensive leather chair. He twirled a Montblanc pen between his fingers. "I was the one funding all that nonsense, Ghalow. You and Silas didn't contribute a single cenT.""Hey, that's—""Oh, and one more thing," Ronan cut in again, this time flashing a lopsided, utterly nauseating smile. "I’m cutting off all funding for that research, effective today. Come to think of it, imprisoning and poisoning living creatures is just so... inhumane. Aren't we civilized human beings? Not monsters like those wolves?"Ronan Bachnault, a man who had tortured dozens of werewolves without blinking, was su
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