"How could this have happened?" Charles shrieks, flinging another paperweight across the room. It shatters against the fireplace, collapsing into shards of pottery dust and sharp corners. Darlene winces; she'd been rather fond of that one.
They've met to discuss the matter at the Hardys' home, since the mansion is too risky. Too many ears everywhere, Charles seethes. Too many little spies, counterspies, working against him. The Alpha should be dead. That wretched little doctor should never have been able to save him.
"It's like she has a goddamn sixth sense," Charles says, pacing erratically. "No one was supposed to interrupt him for at least another hour, which would've given the poison time to finish its work.
"He always rests for two hours after lunch, no meetings or interruptions al
