Page 102 of A Wolfe in the Woods

The elevator doors slid shut with a soft, pneumatic sigh, sealing me inside a steel box that felt suddenly like a coffin.

My reflection stared back at me from the mirrored wall, eyes bright with unshed tears, jaw clenched like I was holding myself together by force alone. Bernie’s words still rang in my ears:I’ve been fighting alone…a long time now, Blanche.

The elevator began its smooth ascent.

I swiped at my eyes with the heel of my palm. Of course I didn’t have a tissue. Allergies chose now to flare, my nose burning, vision blurring. I laughed weakly—an ugly, broken sound—and pressed my forehead against the cool metal for a moment.

Two floors up, the elevator chimed and stopped.

The doors opened to reveal the same minotaur I’d met before.

He filled the doorway, massive shoulders wrapped in a perfectly tailored blue suit this time, woolly brown-and-black fur framing a broad face softened by wire-rimmed glasses. His glossy black hooves were polished to a mirror sheen, his thin tail tucked neatly through the tailored opening in the back of his slacks. Just like I remembered him.

Then, apologetic as before, he said, “Pardon me. I believe this isn’t my floor.”

“It’s…it’s fine,” I replied, scrubbing at my eyes and straightening myself.

“Oh,” he said gently, recognition sparking. “I remember you.” A small pause came as he studied me with concern. “Are you all right?”

I hesitated, then shrugged helplessly. “Layoffs,” I said. The word felt small and inadequate. “Not mine, but a longtime coworker.”

“I see,” he murmured, brows knit. “That explains the heaviness in the building today.” He reached into his suit jacket’s lapel pocket and produced a linen handkerchief and offered it kindly. “I’m sorry for your colleague.”

“Thank you,” I said, genuinely touched as I took it. “I’m Blanche.”

“Orin,” he replied with a small bow of his head. “Accounting. Or…what remains of it.”

The elevator chimed again.

“That’s me,” Orin said, stepping back. “Seventh floor. Well, it was nice meeting you again. And I hope your day improves.”

I smiled faintly. “Thank you, Orin. You too.”

The doors closed between us, and the elevator resumed its climb.

I pressed the handkerchief to my face, breathing in its clean, faint citrus scent. It made the tightness in my chest ease, just a little.

When the elevator finally opened on my floor, the contrast was brutal.

Rows of cubicles stretched out under harsh fluorescent light, every face bathed in the cold glow of monitors. Shoulders hunched. Spines curved. It felt less like an office and more like a pen…people boxed into glowing squares, each one quietly enduring the day. It hadn’t always been this way.

The air was tight. I felt suffocated by the atmosphere in a way I never noticed before. Something inside me snapped into focus.

I halted when I saw Bernie’s cubicle. Empty. Everything cleaned out—all his travel mugs, all the souvenirs he’d collected on his travels with his wife, all the things that had brought familiarity and warmth over the last eight years I’d been here.

Gone.

My gaze flicked to the doors shielding Erik’s office from view. Determination suddenly speared through me. Anger and resentment too. I deposited my purse at my cubicle but never stopped for single moment, my pace quickening.

I wasn’t brave, but this wasn’tright. I felt resolved. And for the first time in a long while, I was taking action.

My eyes flicked down the nearby hallway. For a second, I half expected Fang, Erik’s right-hand man, to be standing somewhere nearby, leaning in the shadows the way he sometimes did outside Erik’s office.

But the corridor was empty.

I was nearly at Erik’s door when his voice carried through the cracked glass. Sterile. Measured.

“No,” he was saying. “Phase Two needs to move faster. I don’t care what his old maps of that land say.”