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“My grandson behind a pillar.”

I flinched as a shadow appeared in front of me.

It wasn't the elegant black ivory walking stick decorated with a silver white gold handle, nor was it the knee-length black felt coat over the three-piece suit with the black asymmetrical vest over the shirt of the same color... or the black neckerchief from the nineteenth century, which no one wore nowadays.

As always, it was the four-furrowed scar on the face of the man who looked as if he were only in his forties, even though he had survived well over ten centuries.

“Nicolaj,” I blurted out.

His raven-black hair was tousled by the wind, his angular jaw looked sharper than usual with his three-day beard, his skin paler.

His cold gray eyes scrutinized me, and as always, I couldn't hold his gaze without feeling as if he were penetrating me.

Theoretically, he could do that. He could make my blood submit to him.

Overwhelmed by everything that had just happened, I looked around and spotted the two Transformed DUIO agents next to the black Mercedes limousine, scanning their surroundings vigilantly.

“Whatever the Alpha was doing here,” Nicolaj continued, running his hand over my shoulder with a focused stare as if he wanted to remove something. “There will be consequences.”

His eyes slid down my body, but without another word, he turned and entered the law firm.

Eye for an Eye

Secession Studios, Greg Dombrowski

I stood in Camille's office, at the door, where Nicolaj sat on her desk chair, staring at the vase with the gold and black family crest.

A feeling of unease spread through me.

As we had been taught, I put my hands behind my back and corrected my posture.

Firm, steady footsteps echoed through the hallway. Definitely Camille. A few seconds later, she shot into her office and spotted me first.

“Miles, I...”

Her head spun around. She froze.

“Nicolaj.”

Something about her changed. I couldn't tell if it was her posture, the way she tensed up, or the twitch of her little finger, which was, as usual, hidden behind her black glove.

“Camille.”

Nicolaj didn't look at her, but kept staring at the vase.

His fingers, also covered with black gloves, wandered through the papers on Camille's desk.

“Would you like to explain to me what the Alpha was doing here?” He picked up one of the sheets and held it up in the daylight. “Together with his daughter?”

Camille was completely fixated on him, no longer even looking at me, as if I weren’t there.

It was always like that. No one dared take their eyes off the clan leader. And only I knew – thanks to my gift – that even though everyone's feelings toward Nicolaj varied, they all shared one specific emotion in his presence. Unease.

But when it came to Camille, there was always another emotion mixed in with it, one I never sensed in her otherwise. Fear.

“Could it be that you're breaking my rules again?”

Now he looked up and put down the sheet, staring at Camille, who lowered her eyes.