Vice City Lord Freya was one of the succubus clan's leaders in the South.

  Draven knew almost nothing about her—not her methods, her preferences, or her temper. The only thing he was sure of was that she seemed to care a great deal about Sylvia, even to the point of obsession.

  But that alone wasn't nearly enough.

  He understood clearly that neither he nor Selene had enough power to crush their opponent outright. So he began by analyzing the situation from Selene's perspective.

  If the enemy were truly that strong, she would have made her move already. But she hadn't. If she was lying in wait, she was either buying time or lacked the confidence to win. Selene suspected the woman was at least a mid-tier Lord, but Draven didn't believe it.

  He sat in the corner of the stone house, arms crossed, and calmly shook his head.

  "No, she's not mid-tier. At best, she's a low-tier Lord."

  His tone was firm, like he was making a judgment.

  "And what makes you so sure?" Selene frowned, a flicker of doubt in her eyes.

  "If she were mid or high-tier, she wouldn't need to hide. She's not that strong. Otherwise, we wouldn't even be sitting here talking about strategy."

  Draven's gaze was steady. He wasn't arguing to sound smart—he was hunting for the next opportunity. And one fact stood out: the more afraid the opponent was of being exposed, the more likely she was to fall into a trap.

  "If she's suppressing her aura, that means she has no clear grasp of our strength. That works in our favor. My aura-concealing skill hasn't been detected by anyone yet."

  That opened up room for maneuver.

  After confirming with Selene several times that she could handle Freya once the trap was sprung, Draven laid out his plan.

  Selene's eyes gleamed as she listened.

  She gave a nod."Then we'll follow your plan."

  At last, the first pale light of dawn filtered through the skylight of the stone house. Only then did they realize that the night had passed.

  Layers of beast hide lay spread across the table, covered in crooked symbols and messy annotations—the fruits of a full night's labor.

  Draven leaned back in his chair and stretched, his joints cracking. He felt more exhausted than after an entire night of fooling around with Viola and the others.

  Selene waved her hand, the meaning clear: go on, time to do your part.

  But Draven didn't get up right away. He sat in the chair, rubbing his eyes, then his hands, a mischievous smile creeping across his face.

  "Selene, I stayed up all night for this plan. Didn't even close my eyes."

  His grin was shameless."Not asking for much—but how about a little reward? Can't let me work for free, right?"

  Selene narrowed her eyes immediately, her gaze cold and sharp—just as he'd expected.

  "What do you want this time?"

  Draven rubbed his hands faster, like a starving dog that had just spotted a bone.

  "Nothing too big." He leaned in over the table and lowered his voice."I just heard you have a bunch of black werewolf slaves?"

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  Selene raised an eyebrow slightly, as if unsure what he was getting at."And?"

  "Well, they're not doing you much good just sitting around. They still eat your food, right? How about letting me take a few? Consider it a reward for my service."

  "How many do you want?"

  "How many do you have?" Draven's eyes lit up.

  Selene yawned lazily, her tone calm."I haven't counted exactly, but if it's not a thousand, it's at least eight hundred."

  Draven's eyes went wide. He looked like a beggar suddenly staring at a mountain of gold, trembling with excitement.

  "Then… can I take them all?"

  Selene set down her pen and glanced at him."You sure don't lack ambition. But… it's fine."

  She didn't explicitly say yes or no—just gave a wave of her hand.

  Draven blinked, then his eyes lit up."Wait… does that mean you agree?"

  Draven was overjoyed—so much so that he nearly bounced to his feet. He didn't want to stay a second longer. He knew full well that if Selene changed her mind, all his excitement would be for nothing. He didn't even bother to say thank you—just turned around and was about to slip away.

  But before he could take more than two steps, that familiar voice rang out behind him.

  "Wait a moment."

  His feet froze, and his body stiffened. Shit. She really changed her mind?

  But Selene's next words caught him off guard."You asked me for a whole bunch of slaves, didn't you? Then I want one too."

  "That one called Valeria. She's mine now."

  Draven almost laughed out loud. Was this supposed to be bargaining? Valeria was already in her hands—did she really need to make a point of saying it?

  He nodded casually."Sure, she's yours," he said, picking up his pace and slipping away as fast as he could.

  Selene stared at his indifferent back, and suddenly Valeria's words from the night before echoed in her mind:

  "That heartless bastard."

  Valeria had actually been thinking of him the whole time—she'd chosen to defect because she trusted him. But Draven didn't seem to care at all. He didn't even spare her a glance.

  Of course, Selene didn't know that in Draven's eyes, this was practically a gift from the heavens. Valeria bore his submission mark—leaving her with Selene was the same as planting a personal spy by her side. And the best part? Selene had asked for it herself!

  What a win!

  In high spirits, Draven stepped out of the stone house, rubbing his sore lower back. He hadn't laid down all night and was definitely feeling it. But compared to what he'd gained, the exhaustion wasn't even worth mentioning.

  He'd barely made it out the door when a sharp intake of breath caught his attention.

  Lydia was walking up to see Selene. She happened to glance up—and froze.

  Out walked the black werewolf from Selene's stone house, rubbing his back, looking tired and disoriented.

  Lydia's eyes went wide, her mouth slightly open. Instantly, her mind started constructing all sorts of spicy, R-rated scenarios—each one more scandalous than the last.

  She even forgot why she had come to see Selene in the first place.

  ...

  Of course, Draven had no idea his little exit had sent Lydia's imagination into overdrive. After leaving the lord's manor, he didn't go back to sleep either.

  Beastkin had exceptional stamina—missing a night's rest wasn't going to break him. And as the leader of the black werewolves, he knew his own limits well.

  More importantly, he had work to do.

  He knew he couldn't let that mysterious stranger remain hidden. He had to find out who they were, how strong they were, and what they wanted—fast.

  He had Gregor arrange a temporary stone hut near where the Dorian brothers used to stay. After a quick tidy-up, he sat down and waited.

  Before long, the Serpent Ancestor appeared at the doorway. Draven gave him a glance and crooked a finger."Talk. Did that guy do anything last night?"

  The Serpent Ancestor stepped in cautiously, head slightly bowed."He didn't leave the house. I didn't dare let the shadow snake get too close… I was afraid he'd notice."

  Draven frowned. That wasn't the answer he wanted.

  "If exposure wasn't a concern, and your snake got a little closer—could you get a read on what level he's at?"

  The Serpent Ancestor instantly understood what this meant: the bastard was about to use him as bait again. He gritted his teeth."You know I'm only at Chief level. Even if the shadow snake made it inside, I wouldn't be able to sense much."

  "What if you went in?" Draven pressed.

  "That'd be suicide." The Serpent Ancestor gave a bitter smile."If he's at Lord level, and he lets out even a trace of aura, they won't even find my corpse."

  Draven rolled his eyes."Useless."

  He waved him away."Keep watching, but don't get caught."

  Though he cursed the man as useless, Draven knew in his heart the Serpent Ancestor had done all he could. The Shadow Serpent clan's reconnaissance skills were formidable—but not infallible.

  "Oh, right." Draven suddenly remembered."Go tell Rurik—they need to start relocating to outside the city. If something goes wrong, they'll need to run."

  Gregor, who had been standing silently nearby, nodded. With a fragment of Draven's consciousness residing in him, they could stay connected even when apart. If he ever dared betray him, Draven could erase him with a single thought.

  Watching Gregor walk away, Draven sighed softly.

  "Once this is over… should I keep him in the city?"

  On one hand, Selene City desperately needed more eyes and ears. On the other, the Black Flag Territory was also short on capable hands. Subordinates who could think for themselves were rare and valuable—especially ones like Gregor who could act independently.