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Oh, I’m thinking that the building is a hotel building near Onus’ apartment. ^=^;;
The one-eyed Raven had come to him. The pied bird was merely a servant, its reliance upon wolves made necessary by its limited vision. The crow wolf had used that to his advantaged, and the bird had become his eyes and ears. He knew everything about his daughter. He knew who had attacked her. He knew who she had lain with. And he knew now who it was that she loved. He sneered, holding the bird upon his arm as he clawed finger stroked its breast with a brooding blackness. Tonight, his daughter was in the city. Tonight she fought, but he would be there waiting for her. And he waited for her now, silent and patient within the darkness of that building of many rooms. The Raven clicked its beak quietly in the darkness, disrupting the silence of the master as he stood there in a room upon the first floor. The bed was still intact, and he had prepared the place especially for his daughter. Even as he sent the bird into the darkness of the storm, his daughter had entered the building. The pied brute shifted from that lithic posture, moving back into the atrium of that building. The time had come.
As if to his bidding, the noise of the rain was shattered by the lightning. That eerie leer split his maw, those black, fathomless eyes finding the form of that female easily. The blade flashed in the transitory light—light was always transitory—before the darkness was allowed to persist. His name, or the name that had been known to be his, was spoken in the darkness. A sneer tugged at those lips, but the emotionless façade was maintained. He was silent as he stood there, unmoving and lithic. Those fathomless orbs found hers in the dark, locking upon them and holding her there. He had shown the coyote, Onus, that she could come willingly, and she could. He had told the male from her pack that she would be made to come willingly, and she had. And they stood now within the darkened edifice, lead by what he believed to be causality. He knew what she believed in, that she was a child of Nemain just as Graine had been. She would believe that the gods had lead her to that moment in time. It would make her more accepting of what he would do.
“You’ve finally come to me,” the empty tenor soothed, his unnerving voice carrying easily through the incessant sound of the rain. He strode several steps toward her, the way he held himself aristocratic, enigmatic. The black tendrils of darkness reached out to his daughter, touching her with a familiarity. The pied Korean did not forget when he had taken her virginity from her. And her body had been satisfying—more so than Graine’s had been for that bloodline had been mixed with his own. And he would have that satisfaction again tonight. “널 기다리고 있었는데....” And then the brute’s mirthless laughter grated the air, a quiet, unnatural sound that slid from between scarcely parted lips. But his face never changed as he watched her, simply waiting. There was still a great distance between them, and still she would come.