Dante
Cassandra’s words followed me like ghosts as I stepped back into the hall.
“Someone’s feeding them.”
Hell. That wasn’t news I wanted confirmed—but it aligned too well with everything that had been happening. The rogue attacks. The growing tension. The wolf killings. WHO agents sneaking into Ashridge like cockroaches. And now, Shirley caught in the center of it all.
I walked straight to the war room—what Talon and I jokingly called the surveillance den. A hollowed-out garage space reinforced with iron walls, old tech patched together with stolen satellites, and half-broken monitors that flickered like ghost lights. We didn’t have much, but it kept eyes where we couldn’t.
Talon was already inside, crouched over the table with Ivy leaning lazily against the far wall, flicking a bla
