Roisin
He opened the door, and the music hit me like a shockwave.
A throbbing bassline pulsed through the cavernous space, the beat vibrating in my chest before I even stepped inside. The room was vast, almost warehouse-sized, and completely soundproofed from the rest of the palace—like a hidden den built specifically to contain the wild, unfiltered chaos of Lycans letting loose. The air was thick with scent—sharp, musky, overwhelmingly primal. Dozens of pheromones collided in the space, layered with alcohol, sweat, heat, and the raw energy of bodies moving together in abandon.
There were at least thirty Lycans scattered across the space, all in various stages of revelry. Some were packed around a long table near the back, shouting over one another in raucous, competitive banter while
