Mag-log inHe’s so good. Too good. Every fact lines up, every explanation checks out. But I can’t shake the suspicion that I’m missing something—an angle, a tell, a shadow that should be there but isn’t. The animal in me keeps sniffing for the lie, but all I find is the faint echo of yesterday’s perfume, still
I start typing. The work is slow, brutal, a kind of penance. The numbers blur, but I force them into columns, force my attention into the narrowest possible focus. For hours, the only sound is the hum of the computer and the hiss of the HVAC, punctuated by the occasional sigh of a door opening somew
“You’re early,” he says, as if the clock might argue. I glance at the water glass. “Couldn’t sleep.” “Could or wouldn’t?” He grins, but the eyes are sharp. “I’d wager on wouldn’t. It’s the wolf, right? You all run hot when you’re close to a big break.” I bristle, just enough for him to catch it,
I go to the window, lean both palms against the glass. My skin leaves prints, the oil and sweat already congealing into shapes that look like maps. I follow the lines with my eyes, imagine them as escape routes, then shatter the thought before it can turn into a plan. Down below, the city is eating
It starts with the hum—a fluorescent in the hallway, a single dying bee caught inside the walls. The rest is midnight: no other movement, no life, not even the janitor’s cart making its rounds. I let it overtake the office, the aftertaste of noise, the low buzz in my molars. It makes the world feel
We pass a group of teens on e-scooters, a couple tangled in their own hands and hair, and then we’re alone again, the trees making a tunnel of privacy. I keep reading, even as my feet move on their own, and only stop when we reach the narrow footbridge over the drainage creek—water barely moving, mo
The air thrums with ambition, the kind that leaves marks like teeth on skin. I step into the boardroom, a half dozen pairs of eyes pulling toward me as if gravity's force has just shifted. The glass walls loom like a watchful sky, reflections doubling back on themselves, encasing us in a tower of ou
I gather the pieces of myself and leave the office. My own intentions are as fractured as his. I cannot think straight with the scent of him so fresh, so insistent, so much like a promise. The door swings shut behind me, cutting off the warmth and memory of Derek's presence with surgical precision
I stiffen, a snarl forming at the back of my throat, before I manage to smooth it into something more civil, more human. This is not what I expected, not what I am prepared for. I should have known. I should have known he'd come. "Mara," his voice drawls, easy and confident, but I hear the challeng
The lock clicks behind me as I slip into the office. I am the wolf, even in tailored business attire. Even with it all wrapped up so tight. The edge of my existence cuts deep. The aftertaste of the night clings to my senses, a raw, metallic tang that I cannot swallow away. My steps falter, then re







