The silence stretched between them, thin and brittle as a spider's web. Ravyn waited, his patience a blade held in check. Then Battal's voice returned, slower now, as if each word had to be dragged from some deep, reluctant place.
"You werewolves live in packs, so you assume it's the same for other creatures."
Ravyn kept quiet, offering no interruption, no encouragement. Just the weight of his silence pressing against the line, demanding more.
"We Lycans love to live normal lives as humans the moment we complete our training, and due to our ruling the mafia, our strength becomes an advantage to us," Battal continued. "But don't get me wrong. We still return to perform our duties to our root. We move between both worlds"
Ravyn's brow furrowed. He leaned against the rough stone wall of the training ground, the cool surface a sharp contrast to the heat still radiating from his skin.
