A Wolf in the Den

The invitation was printed on black white vellum, embossed with gold script that shimmered faintly under UV light. No return address. No sender.

Just a single line:

> Midnight. The Obsidian Room. Come alone.

Tricia stared at it for a long time, the wheels in her mind grinding behind narrowed eyes. The message had arrived slipped inside a fake book at the last safehouse, one only a former agent of S.O.L.A.C.E. would think to check. That meant whoever left it knew her. And not just her. They knew what she’d become.

The Obsidian Room was whispered in the black-market networks she’d dabbled in since vanishing. It wasn’t a location, it was a threshold. An entrance point into the Syndicate of Nine: a covert, self-governing elite network that dealt in arms, secrets, and influence. And S.O.L.A.C.E. had funded them once.

She needed inside.

That night, Tricia stepped out of anonymity and into danger.