**Isabella**
Dean and I walked nervously into the pack house, and it felt like I had swallowed a heavy burden. We had disobeyed Razor's orders and now had to face the consequences. I could feel Dean shaking beside me. He was terrified of Razor's reaction, and honestly, so was I; Razor's wrath was legendary, and disobedience was not taken lightly.
We finally reached Razor's office, well-lit with large windows letting in natural light. The walls, tiles, and shelves were painted white, and filled with files. A glass table with a sleek computer and a black leather chair sat beside it.
Moving towards the center, there was a wooden table and chairs, probably for meetings. I breathed in the clean air, smelling Razor's distinct scent. I still couldn't determine what made it so unique.
Glancing at Dean, his face pale, mirroring my apprehension, we anxiously waited for Razor's return.
