LOGINI turn, slowly, and look at him. The wolf inside is quiet, attentive, ready to see if this man is a threat or an ally. Lucas meets my gaze, not backing down. Not this time. I cross to the table, pick up the pen, and set it down exactly where it belongs. “Next time,” I say, voice so even it’s almo
“She’s your informant?” I ask, flat. He shakes his head, once. “She’s my sister.” The sentence lands with the weight of a dropped anvil, flattening the air between us. I go still. My knuckles whiten around the pen. For the first time in years, I actually stop breathing for a beat. I set the pen d
My skin goes tight at the back of my neck. “How considerate.” He lets the jab land. He deserves it, and he knows it. He pushes the folder forward, but keeps two fingers on it, as if it might fly away if not anchored. The tremor in his wrist is so slight most people would miss it. I’m not most peopl
The war-room is a box of dark glass and exhaustion. I can see the city in negative, every light doubled and blurred, raindrops streaking down the floor-to-ceiling window in irregular pulses. The only real illumination comes from the desk lamp—a single halogen column burning through shadows, flatteni
At the edge of the table, our shoulders brush. The contact is accidental the first time, then less so. Neither of us acknowledges it. He slides a deposition my way, one finger marking the section that matters. “She’s lying,” he says. “Check the timestamp.” I read it, and he’s right—the interview j
The city at two a.m. is a river of jaundiced light, facades throwing themselves across glass and dying, the air heavy with static and the kind of cold that tastes like spent electricity. I’m in the war room, the only island of movement for forty floors, every surface hard and unforgiving under fluor
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







