(Third Person).
Minutes after Mayor Brackham returned to his office, he still stood frozen before the glass wall, his reflection flickering against the flames outside.
His face was drawn tight, pale, his lips trembling faintly as if words had abandoned him.
Two days.
That was all it had been since Draven and his werewolves had driven the vampires away—or so he had believed.
His mind replayed that moment vividly: the Alpha's calm, unreadable face… the weight of his words before leaving.
"Exercise a little patience, then you will understand."
Brackham swallowed hard. The same words now echoed in his mind like a curse.
He turned sharply from the window and began pacing across the room, his shoes clattering against the marble floor.
"This can't be happening," he muttered under his breath. "Those vile things shouldn't be back. They— they can't—"
But the more he tried to rationalize it, the more the truth began to claw at his thoughts.
