The Alpha King’s human breeder
I moved around the room the way I always did—slow, practiced, the cloth in my hand wiping at surfaces that didn’t need wiping.
The shelf nearest the window, the small table by the door, the cabinet against the east wall whose upper drawer sat slightly open.
My eyes moved faster than my hands, my heart racing in adrenaline.
Top shelf—bound volumes, spines faded, titles in the old language I couldn’t fully read yet. Bottom shelf—maps, rolled and stacked, their edges worn. The cabinet drawer—papers, official looking, sealed with wax I recognized as the citadel’s mark.
The desk itself was the most valuable and the most dangerous.
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