The Senate chamber was a madhouse. Brice leaned back in his chair, one leg draped lazily over the other, arms folded across his chest. The room buzzed with overlapping voices, all fighting to be the loudest. Holographic displays floated above the central dais, cycling through images of Paris: burning buildings, bloodied streets, rescue teams hauling bodies from the wreckage.
"You're telling me we got freaking werewolves tearing through one of the most densely populated cities on Earth," thundered Senator Leroux with her palms flat against the polished surface of her desk, "and the best plan we have is 'wait and see'? Are you all out of your goddamn minds?"
"Nobody's saying 'wait and see,'" snapped Senator Vautrin from across the room. "We've mobilized every available unit—police, military, private security firms. Hell, we even have the Vatican sending over some cryptid experts or whatever they call them."
