When Valen came in the late afternoon, the whole atmosphere of the pack house changed. He arrived without warning, entering the gates as if he were a local, his dark, penetrating eyes scanning the whole property as if he were evaluating us.
I knew something was wrong as soon as I laid eyes on him. With his black hair that flowed disheveledly about his face and his unblinking eyes, he seemed to belong in the shadows. There was something unnerving about the way he walked, as if he was constantly prepared for anything to go wrong, yet he carried himself with a cool assurance.
Lucien welcomed him as I watched from the far end of the hall. I could tell Lucien was already tense because of the hardness of his face, his set jaw, and the tightness with which he shook Valen's hand. Lucien seldom seemed this cautious around others, and that increased my own uneasiness.
