I circle my desk like a caged animal, my fingers working at the buttons of my jacket with restless precision—fastening, unfastening, a useless ritual that does nothing to calm the storm brewing beneath my skin. The wolf paces with me, her presence a low hum in my blood, a pressure behind my eyes that threatens to spill over into something more dangerous than anger. My reflection catches in the darkened window—hair disheveled from running my hands through it, lips pressed into a thin line that speaks more of restraint than disinterest.
The quiet hum of the computer is an accusation, Derek's email still glowing on the screen. Lucas's offer hangs in the air between us, unanswered. I turn away from both, drawn instead to the framed photograph on the credenza behind my desk.
Four people stand
