The sound of Greg's respectful voice broke the silence, and the door creaked open, a cold gust of wind sweeping into the room. Both Waldo and Martin turned their heads as two men walked in, both entirely different in demeanor but equally imposing.
Gustave, wearing a black trench coat, had a face carved from stone. His expression was distant and emotionless, yet his wolf-like eyes—sharp and unblinking—resembled the stillness of a windless sea, serene on the surface but with violent currents running deep within.
Charles, in a perfectly tailored suit, wore the "Z" mark pinned to his lapel—symbolizing the highest rank in the Silver Moon pack. He exuded a cold, alluring aura, no longer the reckless youth he once was. There was an icy, commanding presence about him now.
"Charles?" Waldo called, surprised to see him here.
