Scarlett's POV
I was lost in the strokes of my charcoal pencil, the lines forming the jagged peaks of a mountain range I had never actually seen, when the heavy door to the studio creaked open. Alpha Samuel walked in, his presence warm and comforting.
"Good morning, Alpha," I said, offering a small, genuine smile.
He wandered over, staring at the canvas with genuine admiration. "Your talent grows every day, Scarlett. There's a soul in your work that most artists spend a lifetime trying to find." He paused, tapping the edge of the easel. "Listen, there is a massive gathering starting tomorrow: The Continental Warrior Festival. All the packs in Africa are sending their best, and this year it's being hosted right here in Nigeria, at the Iron-Claw Pack."
My heart gave a little flutter of interest. "A festival? It sounds... lively."
