Page 3 of A Wolfe in the Woods

The doors opened to a hallway neither of us needed.

“This isn’t your floor?” I asked, politely but urgently.

He squinted at the floor buttons, then back at his slip of paper. “Oh,” he exclaimed. “I think I pressed the wrong one. Sorry—it’s my first day.”

Before I could respond, he reached out and—ding—pressed another.

“Oh wait. I…might’ve done it again,” he admitted, adjusting his glasses.

I took in a slow, deep breath.United in purpose, I decided. Erik had definitely saidpurposeduring the briefing.

We arrived to the next wrong floor. Just as the doors slid open and before he could press another button, I forced a polite smile, turned, and stepped out.

“Have a good first day,” I murmured, already heading for the stairwell.

I’d be faster on foot…or crawling.

Only four more to go.

I took the stairs in a full sprint, arriving on my floor flushed, breathless, and drenched in sweat. I looked like I’d fought gravity and lost.

Another stab at my temple came as I rounded the corner, my eyes zeroing in on the boardroom. The glass walls were elegantly frosted, a standard feature in Skoll’s executive suites—opaque but impenetrable. Silhouettes could be seen, but no voices could be heard. Outside the boardroom, diligent workers were hunched over their keyboards, clattering away.Phones rang.Someone sneezed. Someone else blessed them quietly.A muffled laugh came, one smothered by ashush.

The office felt different than it used to. Quieter, but not calmer. People moved faster now. Conversations were shorter. No one lingered at desks or stopped to chat the way they once had.

When Erik had taken over, everything had shifted. Out with the old, in with the new. The stability his father had built…it had disappeared almost overnight. Long-tenured department heads—many who’d been here longer than I had—had been gone within months. In their place had come a new wave who were sharper and hungrier.

As I hurried past the compliance cubicles, a head suddenly popped up over the partition.

“Good luck with the presentation,” Bernie called quietly, flashing me a big gleeful smile and a double thumbs-up.

I gave him a grateful smile. “Thanks, Bernie.”

Of everything that had already gone wrong this morning, Bernie might’ve been the only bright spot so far.

After one last tug at my wrinkled skirt, I slipped into the boardroom, breath shallow, nerves frayed. The room was already full. Silent, watchful. Key members of Skoll Corp and Vulcan lined the long black lacquered table, their eyes lifting in quiet judgment as I stepped forward. Eldritch Skoll—founder, former CEO, and father to my boss—eyed me with a steady gaze that was laced with quiet concern.

Everyone was present…but where was Erik?

As if on cue…

A smooth, sharp, unmistakable voice filtered in from the corner of the room. “Ah, Ms. Redfield. I see you’ve decided to grace us with your presence this morning.”

Scattered laughter followed.

I turned toward the voice—toward the shadows—and saw nothing but a pair of golden eyes, gleaming like a predator’s. Watching. Unblinking. Calder “Fang” Rhys—his right hand—stood next to him, just outside the edge of the light.

“My deepest apologies to everyone. I-I’ll just?—”

“Yes, please,” Eldritch interjected gently, though there was an edge in his tone. “We’ve all been waiting patiently.”

Erik Skoll grinned from the shadows, baring his white, perfectly straight teeth, sharp incisors exposed. I dropped my gaze respectfully, looking at the notch of his collarbone as my cheeks burned and the room swayed. Working with Lycans, especially with a pack like the Skolls, was precarious at best. I’d learned to navigate it with the utmost caution.

“My apologies, everyone,” I said, clearing my throat, my hand shaking as I connected my tablet wirelessly, my palm slick with sweat.

When I saw the familiar slide of my presentation illuminate onto the holo-display behind me, I took in a final breath, forcing a smile as I regarded the room.

I began, “The future does not appear; it is carved.”