Author's POV
"What are you doing here?"
Andrew Reese stared at the elegant, composed figure of Fiona Castellan standing in his corridor, genuine shock flickering across his features for several seconds.
"So you really are treating Adrian Storm," Fiona said, her voice measured and calm.
Andrew's brow furrowed. *Really?* That word choice was telling.
"Reese, give me a reason." Fiona's gaze was steady, unreadable. "A good one."
"Didn't you tell me to—" Andrew cut himself off abruptly, the words dying in his throat.
He stared at Fiona with dawning comprehension.
Fiona Castellan was famously brilliant, one of the sharpest strategic minds in European werewolf politics. She read the confusion and frustration in Andrew's expression instantly, understanding what it meant.
