~Morgan's Point Of View~
Morgan creeps down the empty hallway like a shadow that knows its own sharpness. The fluorescent lights above flicker cheaply. Oh, the tired things that give the school corridors a half-abandoned feel at night. Perfect. He likes it when the building feels like it belongs to him. The echo of his footsteps, thanks to the silence of the night, reminds him of how easily he could silence them if he wished.
His lips curl at the thought. Silence is an art he has perfected. You know, smiling when he wants to bare his teeth, leaning in close when he'd rather shove a knife into someone's ribs. His brothers think he spends his nights knotted in sheets with whichever she-wolf happens to bat her lashes his way. And sometimes he does. But mostly, he walks corridors like this, planning and sharpening his revenge while the night's breeze whooshes past his ears.
Tonight, though, he isn't here to prowl the school like a predator. He's heading to a rendezvous.
