POV: Dante
My father chooses the location as usual: his own property.
He doesn't summon me to Noir or the Council. The message simply says: "Today. 8:00 p.m. House."
The house is not a home. It is a territory.
The neighborhood is high above Nova Lyra, where the city lights look like a heat map. The house is stone and glass, sober, with no visible guards. It doesn't need them. The scent of the old pack is on the walls.
As I walk through the door, my wolf tenses, as if returning to training it didn't ask for.
"Noir," a voice greets me from the back.
My father is on the terrace, with his back to me, looking out over the city. His hair is completely gray, his back straight. No tie, but with that alpha aura that doesn't need to prove anything.
I approach him.
"I'm surprised you remember how to get here," he says, without turning around.
"You put too many cameras up for me to forget the way," I reply.
He turns around. His eyes are the same as mine, only colder.
