The mountain wind continued to howl, a mournful, rhythmic sound that rattled the ancient stone of the balcony where Luca Vane sat. He stared at the dark screen of his smartphone, his thumb hovering over the glass. The silence from the other end was deafening. Every second that passed without a vibration felt like a minute of psychological warfare.
Dahmer Lukas was not a man of patience. His entire life was built on the precision of cause and effect, the rapid-fire responses of binary code and chemical reactions. To be left "on read" by a traditionalist Alpha with an ego the size of the Ford skyscraper was an irritation that made his blood boil.
Finally, unable to contain the clinical twitch in his jaw, he tapped the screen.
Luca: Well, Malcolm? Is the silence your way of processing the hierarchy? Are you good with the arrangement, or are you too busy rehearsing your moans in the mirror?
