Silver Moon Pack, Pack Castle, Isis Berg.
Martin lounged lazily on the sofa, his long legs crossed, a glass of red wine swirling between his fingers. His gaze was fixed on the pitch-black night outside the window, where the drizzle, illuminated by the streetlights, cascaded like a curtain of silver threads.
A soft ding broke the silence. Martin withdrew his gaze, lifted the phone to his ear, and answered the call.
"Alpha, we've tracked down Cecilia's whereabouts," came Kim's sultry yet detached voice from the other end. "Shall I inform Waldo?"
"No need," Martin responded indifferently.
Kim hesitated, clearly surprised. "No need?"
Martin took a slow sip of his wine, the crimson liquid gliding past his lips as he spoke with an air of lazy amusement. "Do you really think Waldo wouldn't already know where she is?"