DIGITAL GHOSTS
Damon's POV
The tech room was buried three levels beneath the main packhouse.
Most wolves didn't even know it existed—a windowless bunker carved into reinforced stone, hidden behind a security door that required both a code and biometric clearance. It wasn't built for comfort. It was built for secrecy.
The air was cold.
Dry.
Artificial.
Rows of servers lined the walls, humming softly, their blinking lights casting faint pulses of blue and green across the dim space. Thick cables snaked along the floor and ceiling, feeding power into machines that never seemed to rest.
It didn't feel like part of a pack.
It felt like something foreign.
Like we were standing inside a machine instead of a home.
Ronan stood beside me, arms crossed, his posture rigid.
His gaze was fixed on Felix's screens, sharp and unblinking, but I could feel the tension rolling off him in waves.
We both knew this wasn't routine.
This wasn't a simple breach.
This was something else.
