Marcus paced around the empty warehouse nervously, checking his watch for the fifth time in as many minutes. The fluorescent lights flickered overhead, casting harsh shadows that only heightened his anxiety. Two women sat in his van in the far end of the warehouse, runaways he'd convinced with promises of modeling jobs and quick cash. Their drug habits made them easy marks. But he was one short of the quota.

"Fuck," he muttered, rubbing his temples. His life wasn't supposed to be muscle for a mob family's businesses. But construction work didn't pay the bills, especially with his gambling debts.

The metal door creaked open, revealing Madame Blanc in her immaculate white suit, not a sleek black hair out of place despite the warehouse's grimy atmosphere.

"Marcus, darling," she purred, her red lips curving into a smile that never reached her dark eyes. "I trust you've delivered as promised?"

He straightened up, trying to project confidence. "Listen, Madame Blanc, I got two quality girls. Real stunners. College-aged, clean, nobody looking for them. Worth more than the usual merchandise."

She raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. "When I said three, I meant three."

"I know, but—" Marcus swallowed hard. "Maybe we could adjust the payment? Two-thirds of the agreed amount?"

Madame Blanc's laughter echoed through the empty warehouse. "Oh, Marcus. That's not how this works." She snapped her fingers, and Marcus gasped as he felt a surge of magic hit him.

Marcus started to panic as he felt his skin start to shift. "Look, give me another day, I'll find the third one!"

"No need," she replied, watching him from behind with a growing smile on her face. "When I request three women, I get three women."