Tainted Whispers
Alexie drove their van away, going back home, knowing everything was under control, and Victor would come back soon.
Two hours later, the heavy double doors of Victor’s private study slammed open.
Serena turned around from the fireplace just as Victor stepped into the room. The scent of rain, gunpowder, and raw power walked in with him. He had shed his tactical gear, now wearing only a dark, wrinkled button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, exposing the thick, intricate tattoos crawling up his forearm. His short, dirty blond hair was still damp from the storm; the rain had wiped away the blood of enemies from his body, a few wild strands falling across his forehead.
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