Chapter 8 - The Viper in the RanksThe crowd parted smoothly, revealing an impeccably dressed older man with hair the color of polished silver and eyes like shards of broken glass. It was Julian Vance, the head of the eastern syndicate faction—the man who had orchestrated Viktor’s poisoning and subsequent curse eight months ago.
Viktor’s hand tightened imperceptibly on Mia’s waist. The air around them grew thick, heavy with an invisible, crushing pressure that made the surrounding guests step back in silent terror.
"Julian," Viktor said, his voice dropping into that low, dangerous baritone. "I thought you would have retired to a quiet farm in Switzerland by now. Longevity doesn't usually favor men with your lack of imagination."
Julian smiled, a thin, venomous stretching of the lips. He didn't look at Viktor; his gaze locked onto Mia with predatory curiosity. "And I thought the curse of the black wolf was thorough. Eight months starving in the alleys, reduced to a mangy beast eating scraps from a dumpster... and you come back dragging a human pet behind you like a trophy."
Julian took another step closer, his hand drifting toward the lapel of his jacket. "Tell me, little bird—does he still bite when he's cornered? Or has the domestic life softened the beast?"
Mia didn't flinch. She remembered the dog in the rain, the bleeding fur, the raw survival in those silver eyes. She looked straight into Julian’s cold, arrogant face.
"He doesn't bite stray dogs, Mr. Vance," Mia said, her voice clear, steady, and echoing across the sudden, dead silence of the ballroom. "He only hunts wolves."
Julian’s smile vanished.
Before the old man could draw the hidden derringer from his jacket, Viktor moved.
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It wasn't human speed. It was a blur of charcoal wool and sudden, absolute violence. Viktor’s hand shot out, grabbing Julian by the throat and slamming him backward against a massive marble pillar with a crash that rattled the crystal chandeliers overhead.
The entire ballroom erupted into chaos—guards reaching for weapons, women gasping, glass shattering as panic set in.
