Selene's Point of view

Tension, the kind that clings to your skin and makes it hard to breathe, seeped into the night. I was drumming my manicured nails against the armrest of a velvet chair in the private lounge of a dimly lit club on the outskirts of the city. The low hum of hushed voices from the main floor grated on my nerves, and the air reeked of liquor and desperation.

The man across me had a shadow on his face due to the low lighting in the room. He introduced himself as Dorian, an agent of Specter. Though his fitted suit was immaculate, something cold and reptilian came...