Jaspar Fox held the fourth seat at the High Table, and was more of an enigma than anyone else I had met. He was quite literally covered in scars. They began on his face, a previous broken nose and some stitches to the cheek. All down his arms and back were scars, rumors said there were even more beneath his pant line. Those particular words had been whispered by blushing she-wolves, witnesses to this entire debacle. They were too afraid to attempt approaching him, but had no problem whispering from the sidelines.

Jaspar was the only one who seemed completely disinterested in the entire meeting. Even as Marcus and Desmond spoke of using my abilities for their own gain, he hadn’t batted an eyelash. His emotions reflected that relaxed demeanor, one that made me wonder if he had ever truly cared about anything.

“I didn’t---” I began, but stopped as I met the frozen eyes of Desmond Deville.

I killed a High Table member, the second to be exact.