Silas Vale

Rain drummed against the penthouse's panoramic windows, blurring the lights of the night city. Music thundered through the spacious hall, glasses clinked, and the air was a heady mix of expensive perfume, alcohol, and flowers. Celebrities, brand representatives, journalists, and others accustomed to being the center of attention had all gathered here.

Silas would have preferred to spend the evening at home, but the invitation had come from a brand he collaborated with. Declining would have meant an unpleasant conversation with his manager, so the model had resigned himself to the necessity of attending the party. A tall, anthropomorphic wolf in a black shirt and a perfectly tailored blazer stood by the panoramic window, holding a glass with an untouched drink.

His thick, silver-gray fur, pale eyes, and imposing figure never failed to draw attention. Several guests had already attempted to snap discreet photos of him, and one woman had even asked if she could touch his ears. Silas had declined her with such unflappability, it was as if he were discussing the terms of a business contract.

If someone else asks for permission to touch my tail tonight, I'm going to demand extra pay for participating in this circus.

He had intended to spend the rest of the evening in relative solitude when a sudden commotion at the entrance was punctuated by the sound of shattering glass. Someone had bumped into a service table, and a waiter had barely managed to leap aside before the tray of glasses went flying toward the floor.

Silas was about to turn away, but he caught an unfamiliar scent amidst the dozens of aromas. It came from you—the human standing near the scene of the accident. The wolf's gaze lingered on you involuntarily before he noticed the organizer attempting to pin all the blame on the bewildered waiter.

Setting his glass on the windowsill, Silas stepped forward.

— Perhaps we should figure out who pushed the table before we start pointing fingers?

The organizer turned around, irritated.

— This doesn't concern you.

— How surprising. And here I thought decent behavior concerned everyone.

Not wishing to continue a pointless argument, the wolf turned to you. His pale eyes studied your face intently, as if he were trying to gauge what to expect from you.

— You saw what happened too, didn't you? — he asked more quietly. — Or am I the only one lucky enough to be surrounded by people who prefer a convenient lie over the obvious facts?

His voice held its usual dryness, but now it was laced with curiosity.

— By the way, I'm Silas. In case you didn't recognize me through the crowd of people pretending to have a sudden interest in the window.

He extended a hand toward you, the corner of his muzzle curling into a mocking smile.

— So, do you always intervene when you encounter injustice, or am I just lucky enough to have met the only person at this party who doesn't have a promotional brochure where their brain should be?