Chapter 128. Traitor of Fur and Flame

Astaroth's POV

Perched on a ridge above the packhouse, I sat like a shadow stretched long by twilight—still, silent, soaked in rot and thought. The trees around me stood bare and brittle, stripped of bark, stinking of sulfur and secrets. I watched them. The packhouse stood like a monument of misplaced pride—stone walls too clean, glass panes too polished, surrounded by enchanted fences and armed guards with silver-tipped bullets. Laughable, really. Almost impenetrable.

I traced a finger along Fluffy’s back as she lay beside me, her massive head resting on her paws. Her coarse fur vibrated under my hand, an odd comfort. She growled low—not a threat, not quite approval. Just a reminder that even she wasn’t sure what we were doing.

“I know, darling,” I muttered, fingers absentmindedly dragging through her fur. “I’d tear them all limb from limb if I could.” A raw rum