Page 118 of A Wolfe in the Woods

I tapped the Call button. It rang once, twice…and then went to voicemail.

Frowning, I tried again.

Voicemail.

I stared at the screen, unease creeping in where resolve had been.

“Hey,” I said when the tone beeped, voice low, controlled. “I—I owe you an apology. I don’t know if you’ll want to hear this right now, but I need you to know…I was wrong. I’m sorry.”

I paused, swallowing.

“I miss you.”

Silence pressed against me.

“Call me back,” I finished.

I lowered the phone slowly. Relief came first…then something colder. A wrongness I couldn’t explain. I pushed the thought away and looked outside instead.

The forest shifted as night crept in—branches creaking softly, shadows deepening between the trees of the Hollow.

CHAPTER 33

BLANCHETTE

“My, Blanchette…what big eyes you have.”

The door clicked behind Erik and Fang with the quiet finality of a coffin lid. His words were the calm pinning of nails as they drove home, imprisoning me within.

I couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. The terminal screen still glowed in front of me as evidence left out in the open. The last file name I’d hovered over waited there, like a bomb ready to detonate.

Fang stood half a step behind Erik, an obedient shadow in a tailored suit, his icy gaze fixed on me.

My hands were still on the keyboard. I forced myself to move, to lift them slowly. Carefully. Like any sudden motion might make the whole room explode.

Erik strolled in casually. He glanced at the terminal, then at my face, his mouth curling in pleased amusement. He looked every bit the hunter who’d set a trap and finally heard the snap.

“What are you doing in here, Blanchette?” he asked.

I knew he noticed my trembling hands. I made myself swallow, then slowly sat up straighter in the chair as if myposture could turn my fear into confidence. Hell, I’d take nonchalance too. “Looking at the bigger picture,” I said.

“Mm.” Erik’s gaze flicked to the terminal again. “I see.”

Behind him, Fang reached back and engaged something with a soft mechanical sound. A lock. A security seal.

My pulse spiked.

Don’t panic,I told myself.Don’t give him confirmation that you’re frightened. Even though he probably already knows it.

He reached past me, not touching me, and tapped a singular key.

The screen changed.

A small window opened in the corner:USER ACCESS LOG—ACTIVE SESSION TRACE.

My stomach dropped.

Lines of code scrolled. Timestamps, pathways, clearance layers I had no business accessing. The path Bernie had given me. The exact sequence. Would this come back to him? This was bad. Very bad.