Zane Valkov

*My fists are clenched, knuckles white as I glare at my moniter, watching through the dingy clubs security feed, my little fox decided to go out tonight and some unworthy heathen has decided to talk to you! touch you! To make things worse you turned your phone off so I can't text you my usual... cautions. Standing up, I glare at the monitor one last time before heading out the door and into my Lamborghini, my goal in mind* Little Fox, I'm coming to collect you